CHAPTER XVII.

“Well might his lays be lofty! soaring thought From Nature's presence tenfold grandeur caught: Well might bold Freedom's soul pervade the strains, Which startled eagles from their lone domains, And, like a breeze, in chainless triumph, went Up through the blue resounding firmament.”

MRS. HEMANS.

The absence of Oloompa shed a gloom for a few days over the little circle he left. Miskwa felt that she loved him, and the sympathies of Gay were also strongly enlisted in his favour. His feelings against the whites, as a people, he had avowed in her presence, and when she recollected the dreary region through which he was then travelling, and the many difficulties and hardships he must encounter, and thought he was doing all this for one who at most was but a stranger to him, her sympathies were so great, that for a short time even the pleasure arising from the recollection of the object of his journey, was sensibly diminished. But as time glided on, this feeling passed away, and gave place in her breast to the joy of anticipating his return, accompanied, as she fondly hoped, by Rolfe, of whom she had so often, and so kindly thought, and who had so long and so eagerly sought her.

But, leaving Oloompa to continue his journey, let us revert to the designs of Elkswatawa and Tecumseh.

It was now the summer of 1810:—the Indian affairs in the west began to wear quite a warlike character, and so many reports reached Governor Harrison, indicating a hostile disposition on the part of the Indians, that he felt compelled to send a messenger to the two brothers with a speech, setting forth the vast power of the whites, showing that success could not possibly attend their arms, and promising, if practicable, to redress their grievances upon their being publicly stated. The messenger was likewise required to obtain, if possible, a personal interview with the brothers, that he might form some idea of their characters, and also to elicit a history of their views and intentions toward the United States.

Upon arriving in the Shawanee country, the messenger was treated with great courtesy and even kindness, for the policy of the brothers was, to keep the whites in entire ignorance of their designs. In obedience to his wishes, a council was called of all their followers, and the speech of the Governor delivered to the brothers in their presence. They listened to it with the utmost attention, yet refused to return any answer. Upon the whole, however, they stated that they were pleased with it, and Tecumseh said that “he had never been to see the Governor; he only recollected him as a very young man, sitting by the side of General Wayne; that he had never troubled the white people much, and that he would now go to Vincennes, and convince the Governor, that he had listened to bad men, when he was told that the Indians meditated war against the United States.”

The meeting which had been called to hear the speech from the Governor, having been dissolved, Tecumseh invited the messenger to pass the night with him at his lodge, and extended to him all the rude hospitality of his wigwam. In the course of the evening he threw off much of the reserve which usually characterized him, and conversed both freely and frankly. He again denied that he intended to make war upon the United States, but declared, most solemnly, that it was not possible to remain friends, unless the whites would abandon the idea of making settlements farther to the north and westward, and explicitly acknowledge the principle that all the lands in the west, were the common property of all the tribes. “The Great Spirit,” said he, “gave this great island to his red children; he placed the whites on the other side of the big water; they were not contented with their own, but came to take ours from us. They have driven us from the sea to the lakes;—we can go no farther. They have taken upon them to say, ‘this tract belongs to the Miamies, this to the Delawares;’ and so on; but the Great Spirit intended it as the common property of all. Our father tells us, we have no business on the Wabash; the lands belong to other tribes. The Great Spirit ordered us to come here, and here we will stay. I intend not,” he continued, “to make war on the whites, but our rights must be respected, and from this spot, on the banks of the Wabash, I will never remove.”

When morning came, the messenger having gained all the information he desired, prepared to return, and Tecumseh having determined within his own mind, that he would visit the governor for the purpose of endeavouring to remove the impressions under which he laboured, said upon bidding him farewell,—“tell the Governor that I shall soon be with him; thirty or forty of my principal men will attend me, and as my young men are fond of shows, they will probably increase the number. I say these things that our father may not be alarmed, and that he may feast his red children as they deserve.”

During the whole time that the messenger had remained with Tecumseh, the Prophet had been present, yet took no part in the conversation. He left that entirely to the management of Tecumseh, who, though apparently playing a subordinate part to the Prophet, was in reality the life and soul of the projected enterprise. His voice was heard in every council preaching peace, yet causing the red men to dream of war, by narrating over and over again, the wrongs and aggressions of the whites; and to such a degree had he already excited them, that the difficulty now was, to keep down the passions he had called into play. In his own bosom he felt the storm gathering with increased fury, and every hour of his time was passed in summing up the wrongs he had suffered. Large tracts of land had been conveyed away by particular tribes, when Tecumseh regarded it as the common property of all. Murders had been committed by the Indians on the whites, and the murderers had been handed over to the whites for punishment; murders had been committed on the Indians by the whites, and when the murderers were demanded, their calls had been neglected. The wave of population was steadily advancing and encroaching upon their grounds. Want and hunger were already the consequence of the near proximity of the whites, and a history of the past told too truly, that one aggression would be followed by another, until the plough of the stranger would run over the ground now occupied by their wigwams, and then, a few years more, and no Indian would own the land whereon he rested. These were the things which preyed upon the soul of Tecumseh, and caused him to weep for the fate of his countrymen, and these were the feelings with which, in the following month, he sat out to visit the Governor at Vincennes, with a hope of removing from his mind all unfavourable impressions which he might entertain towards the Indians, and at the same time determined to lay before him the wrongs of which he complained, and demand redress.

It was on the 12th of August that Tecumseh, with a small band of warriors, the Governor having positively forbidden his being attended by a large retinue, made his appearance at Vincennes. Accommodations were prepared at the Governor's house, where he expected the proposed meeting would be held; but Tecumseh refused, and halted his followers in the open air, saying that “so the Indians had ever done, and he would not deviate from their customs. That houses were made for the whites to hold their councils in;—the Indians always held theirs under the trees.”

His fame as an orator had already spread far abroad, and the exciting subjects which were to be discussed, together with his connexion with the Prophet, induced crowds of citizens to attend the council. In addition to this, the conduct of the Governor in effecting a treaty the year before, for the purchase of lands by the United States, had been denounced by Tecumseh as unjust and improper, and to hear the grounds of the accusation, as well as that his defence might be more generally known, the Governor had issued invitations to all those disposed to attend. In consequence whereof, besides the crowds of citizens before mentioned, there were present the judges of the supreme court, and the secretary of the Territory, with many officers of the army. The whites, clustered around the Governor, were seated on chairs and benches, and before them lay extended on the grass Tecumseh and his swarthy band, armed with bows, rifles, tomahawks, and war clubs. In the rear, and at a short distance behind the governor, was stationed a small military force, brought up from fort Knox for the purpose of preserving order. Such was the disposition of the respective parties, when silence being commanded, Tecumseh, nothing daunted by the assembly around him, although all were his enemies save his own trusty band, arose with great dignity and calmness of manner, and gathering his blanket about him, poured forth the deep and burning feelings of his bosom. He knew no guile, but spoke the first promptings of his mind. In answer to a call which was made, that he should state “why it was that large bodies of Indians were assembled, warlike exercises practised, and an attitude assumed apparently hostile to the whites,” he declared that “his object, as well as that of his brother, had been an organized plan, from the commencement, to unite all the tribes together, and form them into one nation, for their common defence,—to stay the farther encroachments of the whites, and to hold the lands of the red men, as they were intended by the Great Spirit to be, the common property of all.” He declared, that “the lands which had been lately purchased, should never be settled, and that it was their determination to put to death all the chiefs who had signed the late treaties, and never again to convey another foot of land to the whites. That in the late treaties, lands belonging to the whole, had been sold by a few, for a paltry price, and their princely dominions so encroached upon, that the red men could scarcely satisfy the dire cravings of hunger. That aggression had followed aggression, until from the sea coast they had been driven back to the big lakes, and were now required to move back still a step farther. That the stipulation of the treaty of Greenville, requiring the surrender of murderers, had on the part of the whites, been grossly violated, and the rights of the Indians entirely disregarded. That in all their transactions they had been overreached, and that now they were resolved to yield no longer, but to maintain their rights, at the hazard of their lives.”

He stated, that his object was “not to make war upon the whites, but that the lands lately purchased, must not be settled; that, for himself, he would never surrender his lands on the Wabash, nor move one foot to the westward; that he desired peace, but to preserve it, the Governor must give up the lands just purchased, and promise never to make another treaty without the consent of all the tribes. Do this,” said he, “and Tecumseh is the friend of the Americans, and their ally against the English.—He likes not the English,”—and here he clapped his hands, and imitated a person encouraging a dog to make him fight with another, thereby indicating that thus did the English urge the Indians on against the Americans. “But,” continued he, “should our father not give up the purchase he has lately made, Tecumseh is the inveterate foe of the Americans,—the firm ally of the English.”

Such were merely the heads of his speech, and having seated himself, General Harrison rose in reply. He began by answering that part of Tecumseh's speech in which he stated that “the lands of the red people were intended, by the Great Spirit, to be held in common.” In replying to this, General Harrison observed, that “when the white people arrived on this continent, they found the Miamies in possession of all the country on the Wabash, and the Shawanees then residents of Georgia, from which they were driven by the Creeks; that the lands in question had been purchased from the Miamies, who were the true and original owners of it; that it was ridiculous to assert that all the Indians were one nation. If such had been the intention of the Great Spirit, he would not have put different tongues in their heads, but have taught them a language that all could understand. That the Miamies found it to their interest to sell a part of their lands, and that the Shawanees had no right to come from a distant country to control the Miamies, in the disposal of their own property.”

Here, Tecumseh rising, interrupted the Governor, and declared that “every syllable he had uttered was false, and that he and the ‘Seventeen Fires,’ the then number of states, had imposed upon and cheated the Indians.” He then blew a whistle, and his band sprang upon their feet, with ready rifles, drawn bows, and uplifted tomahawks, directed towards the Governor, and those who immediately surrounded him. The whites rose from their seats, and drew whatever weapon chance had supplied them with, and though largely outnumbering the Indians, they were almost paralyzed by the unexpected position in which they found themselves; and each party stood gazing at the other in perfect silence, neither daring to commence the attack.

When Tecumseh first rose to interrupt the Governor, the guard was called;—several minutes had now elapsed, and still not a word had been uttered,—not an attitude changed,—not a glance averted,—the most breathless silence had reigned,—the most painful suspense still continued, when the guard was seen running to their assistance. The time had not yet arrived for Tecumseh to strike,—he waved his hand, and the bows of his warriors were unstrung, their tomahawks returned to their belts. To the whites it had been a painful scene.—The guards who were ordered up, had now arrived, and were in the act of firing, when the Governor, seeing that the Indians had desisted from their hostile intention, commanded them not. Great confusion existed,—the council was dismissed, and Tecumseh, with his band, immediately left the town.

Having continued his march for several miles, he pitched his camp, and prepared to pass the night. His warriors were ordered to be on their guard against surprise; and also to hold themselves in readiness to move at a minute's warning, while he, retiring apart from the crowd, thought over the events of the day. His soul was now wrung with anguish,—he writhed under the wrongs he had suffered, and at the same time regretted the passion he had exhibited. He feared lest it should prejudice his cause, and that the whites should consider it a sufficient reason for their commencing hostilities. He would not have time to summon his warriors to battle. Moreover, he was not yet ready, for although his emissaries had visited the southern tribes, he himself had not, and therefore it became necessary to do away the impression which his conduct at the council was calculated to create.

With these views, he sent a runner to the Governor, at the first dawn of day, requesting an interview, for the purpose of explaining his conduct the day before. After the breaking up of the council, in the manner above stated, Gen. Harrison, fearing an attack from Tecumseh, had ordered in the militia, and placed the town in a state of defence, and exasperated by what he believed to have been a premeditated attempt at treachery on his part, he at first refused to grant the interview sought. After some consultation, however, he accorded it, upon condition that each party should be attended with the same armed force which was present the day before.

The day wore on, and the red men and white again met in council. Tecumseh was dignified and collected, and rather more conciliating in his manner than he had been at the former conference. He denied having had any intention of attacking the Governor, and exerted himself to remove any such impression which might have been formed, yet reiterated the same opinions which he had advanced the day before, relative to their lands, and the wrongs of the Indians. Having finished speaking, the Governor asked him whether it was his intention now to prevent the surveying of the lands, lately purchased by the United States.

He answered, “It was:—that he and those connected with him were determined that the old boundary should continue.” The Governor complimented him for his frankness, and told him, that his views should be made known to the President, but he feared, without a hope of the lands being surrendered.

“If they are not, I cannot help it,” said Tecumseh, “I know my duty.” The council was then adjourned, and Tecumseh again left the town.—All present were fully impressed with a sense of the high character and noble bearing of Tecumseh, and none more so than the Governor, who, with a hope of eliciting a farther development of his views in private, than he had given in public, determined on the following day, to visit him at his camp. With but a single friend, he appeared before Tecumseh, who treated them both with the most marked respect, carried them to his tent, where, giving them seats, and stretching himself upon the ground, he entered frankly into conversation.

The Governor stated, that he had come with a wish to preserve peace, and desired to know whether his intentions were really such as he had stated in council.

Tecumseh said, “they were;—that he would not willingly make war with the United States, against whom he had no other complaint, than their purchasing the Indian lands.—That he wished to be their friend, and that if the Governor would surrender the lands lately bought, he was the ally of the Americans; if not, he was their enemy.” The Governor again assured him that he would make known his propositions to the President, but informed him, there was no hope of his acceding to them.

“Well,” said Tecumseh, “as the Great Chief is to determine the matter, I hope the Great Spirit will put sense enough in his head to induce him to give up the land. True, he is so far off, that the war will not injure him;—he may sit still in his town, and drink his wine, while you and I will have to fight it out.”

Much conversation ensued, all of which was marked by the most manly frankness, and the Governor rose to depart, saying, “there is one request, Tecumseh, which I have to make, and to which I hope you will agree.”

“Name it,” said the Chief.

“It is,” said the Governor, that “in the event of a war, you will endeavour to prevent the murder of women and children by the Indians, as well as the wounded and prisoners, taken in battle.”

“I promise,” said Tecumseh, “for my soul delighteth not in the blood of women and children; and, Great Chief, remember, if it becomes necessary, extend to the red men the same clemency you ask for the whites.”

“I promise,” said the Governor, and bidding Tecumseh farewell, with a hope that the friendly relations then existing, might not be disturbed, he was soon on his way to Vincennes, meditating upon the interview, and deploring the war which he saw fast gathering, and which was to prove disastrous to the whites, and ruinous to the Indians.