CHAPTER XI.

“'Tis said thou holdest converse with the things Which are forbidden to the search of man; And that with evil and unheavenly spirits Thou communest. I know that with mankind, Thy fellows in creation, thou dost rarely Exchange thy thoughts, and that thy solitude Is as an anchorite's.”

BYRON.

In accordance with the resolution adopted by the brothers, as mentioned in our last chapter, Elkswatawa suddenly appeared as a Prophet among the Shawanees. Meek and humble in his manner, he was not characterized by the frivolities of dress, which, among the Indians, always distinguished those who have attempted to play similar parts, nor was there indeed any thing about his apparel at all calculated to render him conspicuous. A blanket thrown loosely over his shoulders, formed his upper garment, and when removed, disclosed a frock or kirtle, of blue cotton cloth, closely fitting his person, and extending down nearly to his knees. From his ears were suspended large silver medals. These were the only ornaments worn by him. His countenance was unpainted, and, although it was the invariable custom of his countrymen never to move without the implements of war, or those of the chase, yet he had neither, but went forth apparently as incapable of doing mischief as when first he came into the world.

His appearance as Prophet for a time produced no excitement, and he was regarded only as one of the many impostors who often sprung up among the various tribes, and assumed the character either for the purpose of gratifying private feelings of revenge, or else for the sake of personal aggrandisement. But not at all discouraged by the manner in which he was received, he kept steadily in view the object for which he had set out. Regardless of the reproaches and taunting speeches which often met his ears, he pursued the even tenor of his way, content to tell to every circle, however small, that he was the chosen agent of the Great Spirit, sent to warn the red men of their evil deeds, and beg them to do better. An example of all that was patient and meek, he was found wandering from village to village, preaching as long as he had a hearer, and satisfied when his task was finished;—he then seemed to have performed his duty, and again continued his journey, apparently careless whether his words were heeded or not. He asked nothing at the hands of any one, and refused to accept when any thing was offered. Conduct so singular in an Indian, gave rise to conversation, then to surprise, and finally to excitement. His words were now eagerly listened to, but to what they tended, or what was their ultimate object, no human being could foresee. He was enigmatical in his expressions, and to all his followers, seemed shrouded in mystery. He had been playing his part for about two months, when leaving the scene of action for a time, he was again seen in secret conference with Tecumseh. They were now less gloomy than when first they met, and a gleam of satisfaction already shone in their countenances.

“Welcome, brother,” said Tecumseh. “Have the winds of night sung to you the words of the Great Spirit, and have you put them into the ears of the red men?”

“Yes,” said Elkswatawa; “night after night I slept in the woods, and dreamed as no one ever dreamed before.—Seeking the red men, I begged them to listen:—they passed me by;—they heard me not. I then told the words of the Great Spirit to the trees,—to the streams. I sung them to the winds, as they moved along. The red men wondered:—I left them, and they followed me to listen.”

“And what say they?” inquired Tecumseh.

“Their hearts are troubled,” said Elkswatawa; “their ears have heard, but their eyes cannot see; they are in the dark.”

“Then our dreams of vengeance shall yet be realized,” said Tecumseh. “The white man shall tremble when the red men are one people. But to make them so, keep thy words wound up; let nobody see their meaning. When the Prophet is great, then he will tell his wishes.”

“The Prophet is wise,” said Elkswatawa. “He is a clear spring to his brother, but he is midnight to every body else. He has already troubled the red men, and the words of the Great Spirit shall ring in their ears until they know no quiet. They shall say, ‘Elkswatawa is the true Prophet, and we will do what he tells us.’ The time shall come when this is to be;—I see it in the future. And when it does come, I say, Tecumseh, the plains shall be covered with warriors, as far as the eye can reach. Their tomahawks shall glitter in the sun, and with you to lead them, they shall pass like a swelling flood over the homes of the pale faces.”

“Oh! brother,” cried Tecumseh, “it is good,—it makes my heart glad. Let it come true, and the lightning's flash shall be dark to the fires which light our path, and the rolling thunder shall not be heard, when the war-whoop rings of countless thousands. But, brother, it will take a long time. We must work hard, and many must help us. Ah! the white man little dreams of the storm which is gathering.”

“No, nor must he dream,” said Elkswatawa; “the tomahawk must lie hid, and the white man must think we will never dig it up. We must preach peace to the Indians, get power over them, and make the white man say, ‘the Prophet is good; he calms the troubled waters.’ But we want help; we must have converts, and they must go and talk to the far tribes.”

“I am already thy convert,” said Tecumseh.

“And what did the red men do,” asked Elkswatawa, “when Tecumseh said that there was no crook in the words of the Prophet.”

“They were surprised,” answered Tecumseh.—“It was like a blow they did not expect; they looked at each other, and waited for some one to speak.—I left them.”

“Thou didst well,” said Elkswatawa:—“at first be indifferent whether they believe or not. Let it satisfy thee that thou believest; but when once we have power, who is there that will then dare doubt? The Prophet has only preached to small numbers. He must have a large crowd;—he must tell them all together, what the Great Spirit will do for them, if they follow his words.—And listen, Tecumseh, fear must seize upon their hearts, and we must make them believe.”

“Yes,” said Tecumseh;—“the words of the Prophet must move their hearts, as the wind stirs the leaves on the trees. Tell them who they are;—tell them that the stranger came among us, and begged for bread,—we gave it; he asked for a wigwam,—we made him one; he wanted lands,—we told him to take them. Was he satisfied? Tell them to ask the bones of their fathers! Or, point to a son, whose father's blood was spilled by the whites! Ask, where does he sleep? Tell him the white man's house is built over his grave! And thus speak, if you wish to stir them to the bottom. It would be well that they should fear. Let the place of meeting alarm them. Canst thou do it?”

Elkswatawa was for a moment silent; he pressed his hands to his head, then suddenly smiling as if a happy thought had struck him, replied, “I have it; hast thou forgotten the Ween-bah-sho-ke-kah?”

“What, the haunted cavern?” said Tecumseh.

“The same,” replied Elkswatawa. “Fear will seize upon their hearts as soon they enter it. It will suit our purpose.”

“It will,” said Tecumseh, animated by the thought; “you visit it, and prepare for the coming assembly. I will spread far and wide the tidings that the Prophet of the Great Spirit will hold a talk with the red men in the haunted cavern.”

“Then do so,” said Elkswatawa, “name the time of meeting the twentieth day from this. The Indians are troubled and they will come, though they fear. Terror shall seize upon their hearts, for none as yet have penetrated its recesses, and they shall say, ‘Elkswatawa is the true Prophet.’”

“I augur well,” said Tecumseh, “the cave alone will fill them with fear; Elkswatawa knows how to make them tremble.”

“Trust me,” said Elkswatawa, “even Tecumseh himself shall tremble. Hast thou ventured far into the Ween-bah-sho-ke-kah?”

“No; never to its end,” said Tecumseh.

“Then thou dost not know how well it suits. A word more. When we meet, Prophets must be made. Let them travel to the farthest tribes. Think of those best suited, and name them to me. I will clothe them with the prophetic spirit, and they shall wander forth believing what they preach. Say, that Prophets will be made, and more will come to the cavern. Now, farewell, play well your part, Tecumseh, and trust to Elkswatawa for his.” They then separated.

The brothers having adjourned, Elkswatawa again commenced his wanderings; the words of the Great Spirit were told to every person in whom he could find a hearer, and he now for the first time, began to affect singularity. He mingled in none of their amusements, he was reserved and mysterious in his manner, and when not preaching, would wander about and commune only with his own thoughts. He was rarely if ever seen to eat, and when he did, the most frugal fare formed his diet. He would never sleep in a wigwam, but as night came on, wrapping a blanket about his shoulders, would retire far into the forest, and appear again only with the rising sun.

His doctrines had already with the Indians become a theme of general conversation, and given rise to speculations as undefined as they were general. His opinions were seized upon with avidity, and propagated with impassioned zeal; and that they were to produce any other effect, than merely to better the condition of the Indians, no human being could foresee. Nothing could be more humble than his mode of address, nothing more pacific than the measures he recommended. He inculcated reform in the manner and habits of the Indians, begged them not to imitate the examples of the whites, but to live as their fathers did before the stranger came among them; entreated them no more to go to war with each other, but to live united as a band of brothers; to give up the use of ardent spirits, to which mainly their misfortunes might be attributed, and to stop at the same time, all intercourse with the whites. He urged them never to lie, to steal, or to quarrel with each other; and having pressed upon them the necessity of refraining from these things, he then depicted in glowing terms, their once proud and happy condition, when their lands lay spread out so far around them, that no one knew their boundary; when their plains were covered with deer and buffalo, and their streams were filled with the otter and beaver, when peace and plenty were abroad in the land; and when gathering under their own shady trees, without a care for the morrow, they would teach their children to dance on the green, to throw the tomahawk, or draw the bow. He contrasted this with their present situation, and attributed the change to their doing those things which he now commanded them not to do; then declared to them, that he was the agent of the Great Spirit, who had revealed to him his will, and sent him to warn them of their evil deeds, to unite them as a band of brothers, and reinstate them in their former happy possessions.

These doctrines had been reiterated for some time by the Prophet, principally to individuals of his own tribe, and to the few, who having heard of the Prophet, came from a distance to look upon the agent of the Great Spirit. But as yet he had addressed individuals only, or small groups whom accident had brought together; he had never spoken to a large crowd. Thus was he situated when, apparently without any design of his own, messengers were found going in every direction, to noise abroad his existence as a Prophet, and invite the red men to hear him preach and expound the doctrines of the Great Spirit. Rumour, no one knew whence it came, already attributed to him miracles without number, and sketched his appearance in such singular characters, that anxiety now sat on every face, and all were on tiptoe with curiosity to see him; so that when the time and place were appointed for a general exposition of his doctrines, and when also it was told that he was about to parcel out among some of his immediate followers portions of the holy and prophetic spirit which animated himself, crowds of persons, with agitated and restless countenances, were seen hurrying on in every direction to the “Haunted Cavern.”

This cave, which was then well known as the “Haunted Cavern,” and now equally well known by a different appellation, lies within the bosom of a range of hills, situated within the limits of the State of Indiana. On the evening preceding the day on which the Prophet was to preach, might be seen near their southern extremity, and at the base of a hill, which, shooting up several hundred feet, stretched away until it was lost to the view, hundreds of red men, with their wives and children, gathered in groups, in the beautiful grove which lay spread out far around them. They were engaged in various discussions, and, altogether, manifested more excitement and animation than ever before was known to pervade an Indian camp. Within this hill, was the “Haunted Cavern,” the place of rendezvous. Roving bands were still occasionally coming up, although the night was now somewhat advanced; and morning was to witness an exposition of the doctrines of the Shawanee Prophet.

The night wore on;—large vessels were simmering over the Indian fires, containing the suppers of the late gathered crowd, and a more quiet aspect seemed settling over the camp, when the blast of a horn rang through the forest. Its echo died away, a breathless silence reigned, and a voice breaking upon the stillness of the scene, was heard proclaiming, “the Prophet's throne is in the bosom of the hill;—when morning comes, let the red men seek it, and hear his words:—it is the Prophet's will.”

The voice was hushed:—a low murmuring sound, like the suppressed whispers of a multitude, was heard for a time to pervade the camp;—silence then resumed her sway, and nought more was heard until morning came. At the very first dawn, a dusky line of Indians might be seen in single file, ascending the hill, a distance of about two hundred feet, to a point, where were posted two warriors, gaudily painted, and armed with heavy war-clubs. Here halting but for a moment, they disappeared, by descending through a high arched door-way, far down into the hill up which they had been climbing. The procession lasted for about an hour;—the last of its members had just entered the hill, when the horn again sounded, and the warriors who had been standing guard, leaving their post, followed on, bringing up the rear of the crowd which had entered. It was morning, yet it availed not;—the light of day had never penetrated the dark recess of that cavern;—no lost sunbeam had ever struggled through a nearly closed fissure, to make glad with its presence that dim abode;—yet there it had existed for ages, wrapt in its own gloomy obscurity, and untenanted, save by nature, which had converted it into a chemical laboratory, and there silently and incessantly, time out of mind, had been engaged for its own wise purposes, in excavating spacious caverns,—forming an infinite variety of stalactites,—creating wreaths and festoons, by the process of crystallization,—erecting pillars, fluted and adorned with the most beautiful incrustations,—and embellishing every part of the immense area with the richest frost-work. Descending through the fissure which conducts you into the hill, you tread a gallery varying in its elevation and width for a mile and a half, and throughout its whole extent, decorated with crystallizations, cast in every shape, and of every hue. You are then introduced into a suit of spacious halls, arched over some thirty or forty feet above you, and supported by huge fluted columns of satin spar. How tame and common are the most splendid palaces, with all their decorations of art, when compared with these secret dwelling places of nature. How tasteless are the most exquisite specimens of architecture, when compared with the rude gothic grandeur of these huge subterranean abodes.

Within the largest hall, arose the throne of the Prophet. This consisted of a scaffold, elevated some few feet, and covered over with skins;—from which also hung a rich drapery of the same material, reaching to the floor, and effectually concealing every operation which was going on within. From this throne, was the prophet to make his appearance,—here promulgate the wishes of the Great Spirit,—here tell of the numerous times he had condescended to visit him,—here divide among his chosen followers portions of his own holy nature.

Gathering close together, in small circles, in various parts of the hall, the Indians sat;—anxiety was strongly marked in their countenances,—many gazed wildly about, and some trembled, as though they were suffering with fear. A single taper burned in that dark abode, serving only to indicate the situation of the Prophet's throne, and leaving shadowy and undefined, the spacious hall in which they were assembled. Silence reigned, only interrupted by a suppressed sigh, or a single whisper, when an owl was heard to complain to the bare walls. It ceased, and Tecumseh rising, lighted a match, and set fire to several large piles of wood, which had been prepared for the purpose. The fire rapidly caught, and as its flames burst forth, a scene presented itself, of which language can convey no adequate idea. A thousand suns would not have created a more dazzling light than did those fires, when reflected and refracted at every possible angle, from the myriads of crystals which studded the walls. They gave life to that which was before gloomy and obscure,—presented a scene as brilliant as though every crystal were a diamond, and called into play imaginations which required but little exertion to form and fashion into perfect models of huge and uncouth animals, the many wild assemblages of spar and stalactites which hung above them.

While the Indians, wild with astonishment, were gazing on the scene which had just burst forth, a low rumbling noise was heard,—the skins, which hung from the throne, were pushed aside, and a very singular figure made its appearance. An involuntary start was the effect of their first beholding it. It was, however, a man, and a tool of the Prophet. He was clad in one or more bearskins, selected on account of their being very black, and thrown over him so loosely as to enable him to assume any attitude or shape, whether it was that of the animal he personated, or of a man, which he less resembled. His face was enclosed in a bear's head, which seemed grinning with all its native ferocity, and exhibiting its long, white, keen tusks; while its eyes were somewhat enlarged, and surrounded by a deep red fiery belt, creating a savage horror. Where the animal's tail should have been, protruded one of enormous bulk, terminating in a large black snake, which had been so well stuffed and preserved, that as this object whisked about, the snake had all the appearance of life. This man had been chosen, and thus equipped by Elkswatawa, for the purpose of guarding his sacred person, together with several other small articles, which he denominated portions of the flesh of the Great Spirit, and which he stated, were given him that his chosen followers might touch them, and thereby imbibe the prophetic spirit. Having made his appearance, he circled the throne several times on the outer edge of the scaffolding, howled, and disappeared.

A warrior, then, a chosen friend of the Prophet, stepped from the crowd, and began howling a dismal song, in a low grumbling voice, and at the same time to move in a slow trot around the throne. The multitude now rose, and joining in the song, followed on in the dance until they had circled it three times, when the Prophet rose, and stood erect upon the highest pinnacle of his throne. The song was now more loud and animated,—the multitude moved with greater activity, and nothing could be more impressive than the reverberation of their voices afar off, in the hollow windings of that huge cavern.

At a given signal, all was hushed, and the Prophet stood erect, with his bare arms stretched towards heaven. His attitude was one of prayer, and his countenance was singularly expressive. His hair, simply parted over his forehead, was drawn tightly back, and fastened; falling thence unconfined, in straight lines, far below his shoulders, and serving from its deep black, to impart to his face a redder tinge than it was wont to wear. His dress was plain, and he wore no ornaments save the rings which were ever suspended from his ears;—but as he moved his arms about, a couchant tiger, beautifully tattooed, and representing the totem of his tribe, was seen to move with every action of his muscles. The humility of manner which marked his first announcement as a Prophet, had now left him, and with a calm and composed look, he gazed for several minutes around him, when he thus spoke:—

“Brothers,” begun the Prophet in a soft, low tone of voice, which gradually increased, until like the rushing noise of a swollen torrent, it was heard forcing its way through every winding of that spacious cavern. “Listen. It is the voice of the Great Spirit who speaks to you in the words of his Prophet. He lives in the winds, he rides on the tree tops, he walks on the rivers, he stands on the mountains. From all he has cried unto me and said, ‘Elkswatawa, go and talk to the red men.’ Tell them of their evil deeds, warn them of their danger and beg them to do better. Elkswatawa was sleeping in his wigwam, when the spirit first came. It said ‘Elkswatawa, awake, awake, go unto the red men and preach the word.’ It told me that the red men had evil ways, that their sufferings were very great, that their hunting grounds were going away far from them, and soon they would have no homes to rest in, no game whereon to feed. It told me that the bones of your fathers were now lying upturned on the fields of the stranger, who once came to you hungry and you gave him food! who came to you naked, and you clothed him in skins—and saying this,” continued Elkswatawa, “the heart of the Great Spirit was sorry, and he said, ‘I made these hunting grounds for my red children, but on account of their evil deeds the white man has taken them away.’”

And here the animal which was concealed within gnashed his tusks and ran howling around the stage on which the throne was erected.

“But,” resumed the Prophet, “while the Great Spirit was sorry for his red children, he told me how to relieve their sufferings, and make them happy as they were before the white man came from beyond the wide waters,—make them happy as our fathers were, when nobody could say ‘this belongs to me, that belongs to you;’ but when the fruits which grew belonged to him who gathered them, and the red man built his wigwam wherever he wished it.

“Brothers, listen! give me your ears while I put his words into them. He is sorry for his red children, and wants to see them happy. He says they must not lie, they must not steal, they must not go to war with each other, nor with the white man—that the white man was bad to his red brothers, and that they ought to go away and leave him—that they ought not to trade with him, nor associate with him, nor follow his example, but above all not to drink his whiskey—that it was poisonous to the red man, and made him give away his lands—that what was good for the white man was not good for the red—that they were two people, and ought to live each after their own ways. The Spirit told me to talk to you, to tie you together, until you were all like brothers—to tell you that though you had different tongues, yet you were one people—to tell you that what was good for one was good for another, that you should think alike, and feel alike, until a wrong done one was felt by all.

“Brothers, listen! I have now spoken to you the words of the Great Spirit; I ask you are they good? Does he ask of you a sacrifice? No. He promises all you wish. Obey his words as the Prophet has spoken, and your lands shall be given back to you, so vast, that the sun shall never go down upon them—and they shall be covered with deer and buffalo and elk, as many in number as the leaves on the trees. The tomahawk shall be buried, and peace like a large bird shall spread his wings over the land—the white men shall go over the waters, and the red men shall again be masters of the country. But, disobey him, continue in your evil ways, and the Great Spirit will sweep you away, and your hunting grounds will be given to the pale face.

“The Prophet has finished, you have heard the words of the Great Spirit, and they stand as firm as the sun in the Heavens.”

He then ceased speaking, and was silent:—the multitude seemed struck with awe and astonishment at the exposition of his doctrines; they were so plain, they were so easily followed, they required no sacrifice, yet promised so much. Each looked at the other and whispered, until the Prophet again rose; then all were silent, when in substance he stated “that in obedience to the will of the Great Spirit, he would now empower some of his chosen servants to aid him in preaching the word, that setting out in different directions, they might spread far and wide the words of the Great Spirit, turn the red men from their evil deeds and give them peace and plenty.”

He then called over a list of the chosen, about a dozen in number, each one being conspicuous in the circle to which he belonged. They approached the throne, and fell prostrate before the Prophet. After a few moments he ordered them to rise, detailed to them the course that each must pursue, the doctrines they must preach, the holy errand upon which they were about to set out, and the great good which was to result from their labours. He adverted to the many privileges to which they were entitled as agents of the Great Spirit, and dwelt upon the evil consequences to which those would be exposed who treated them amiss. Having given a detail of their various duties, enjoined upon them the mode of life they were to follow, and the habits they were to adopt; he ordered them to approach nearer, that they might touch the flesh of the Great Spirit in token of their acceptance of the holy mission. They obeyed, and foremost among the applicants for holy orders now stood Tecumseh. They having approached sufficiently near, the Prophet stepped from his throne, seized a broach which had been lying at his feet, and began to wind up the thread which had been drawn off. At this moment several of the immediate followers of the Prophet, were seen to slip unobserved from the crowd and disappear in the cavern, each one carrying a coal of fire. The Prophet continued winding the broach and seemed as if searching for the end of the thread. A few moments sufficed to show that it had found its way among the skins where the singular figure before described was now reposing, yet the Prophet continued to wind, and as the thread came more slowly and was pulled with some difficulty, the animal within, for so I must designate it, became noisy and restless, making the cavern re-echo with the most hideous yells, and contorting and twisting himself into various shapes, and lashing the staging with that part of his body which terminated in a snake. A moment more and out it burst, screaming and yelling, and rolling around the throne, with eyes like coals of living fire—at the same time was drawn out the end of the string, and to it was attached a motley mass of mouldy beans, lizards tongues, and birds' livers. At their appearance the Prophet trembled from head to foot, and knelt in the humblest attitude of prayer, while at the same time, the most vivid coruscations of lightning were seen to burst forth from various parts of the cavern, accompanied by a dull heavy sound, so violent as to bring from the walls a shower of small crystals, broken loose by the violence of the concussion. With a tremulous hand, and scarcely articulate voice, the Prophet seized the string, and bade his chosen band touch the flesh of the Great Spirit.

“This was given me,” said he, “that you might touch it, and thereby receive the Holy Spirit:—take it and draw it through your hands, and you are Prophets, and the bond of union is irrevocable between you and the Great Spirit.” Then passing it to them, each one did as he desired.

While they were doing this, the sides of the vast cavern looked like burnished silver, so thickly were the walls studded with crystals, and so incessant was the lightning's flash. Every object was now visible;—the dull heavy sound was still heard reverberating in the windings of the cavern;—the animal still howled and rolled itself, as if in an agony of suffering; and the crystals fell like falling snow,—when the Prophet said, “Quick, quick, the flesh of the Great Spirit must not longer be exposed, or some misfortune will befall us,” and clutching it from the disciple who had last drawn it through his hands, he placed it, with the broach, beneath the skins. The animal ceased howling, and returned to its cover,—the lightning, with its accompanying dull noise, died away,—the crystals ceased falling, and all was silence.

The converts were now ordered to kneel, and the Prophet having again commanded them to wander far and wide, and preach the word;—and having in a brief manner recapitulated his doctrines, and given them his parting benediction, they, with the crowd, were dismissed.

He then descended from his throne; began to mingle familiarly with all,—to narrate his dreams,—to sketch visions of future happiness,—and dwell upon the necessity of obeying his injunctions.

The newly made Prophets pursued the same plan, and for some time there was a general interchange of opinions, when the crowd, well satisfied with the exposition they had seen, left the cave and returned to their wigwams.