CHAPTER XIX.

“Thy heroes, though the general doom Hath swept the column from their tomb, A mightier monument command, The mountains of their native land! There points thy muse to stranger's eye, The graves of those that cannot die.”

BYRON.

Great excitement prevailed in consequence of the tidings brought by Oloompa. The news quickly spread throughout the village, that Rolfe was about to go in quest of a maiden who had been captured some time before by the Indians; and no sooner was it known, than many of his friends volunteered their services, and offered to accompany him. He thanked them for their kindness, but declined, saying that his friend Earthquake had promised to go, and as they all knew that, in any Indian adventure, Earth was a host within himself, they were satisfied. Speculations as to the person they were going in search of, were made by many ladies of the village, and some even ventured to assert that it was an affair of the heart; but this impression finally gave way to one with which they were more pleased, namely, that the captive lady was a distant relation.

Oloompa, as before stated, met with every attention which kindness could bestow, and every effort was used to make him happy; but there was sadness and gloom upon his brow, and heaviness at his heart. He saw himself surrounded by the enemies of his race, their wigwams rising up, and their fields spread out, where formerly the red man roved sole lord of the forest. He beheld their inquiring and insulting gaze when he ventured out; he thought of the encroachments and aggressions which had ever marked their history, and he saw in the future, the coming struggle, which was to decide for all time, the fate of the red men.

But, sad as were these musings, he felt the consciousness of having done an act which ennobled him in sacrificing every personal feeling to serve Rolfe. He experienced the gratification which flows from a noble deed. He enjoyed that holy and sacred sensation which fills the heart, when one, careless of the opinion of the world, performs some act which is prompted by friendship, by benevolence, or by charity. And yet he was unhappy. Another cause of his unhappiness added to those we have already stated was his late acquaintance with Miskwa, the affianced bride of Tecumseh, as he sometimes feared, notwithstanding her denial to the contrary. And although there were moments in which he believed this, her figure was often dancing before him, and in fancy he walked with her, or drew her bow, or listened to her happy laughing voice; and then came reality, and he longed for the noise of battle, for desperate conflict, and for mighty struggle, that he might pour out his vengeance upon the whites, stay their encroachments, and secure to the red men the quiet possession of their hunting grounds, or in eternal sleep find rest for all his woes.

It was now the morning that Rolfe had promised to accompany Oloompa, and the preparations at his house, showed that he would soon be in readiness to do so. He and Earth were both armed and equipped, pretty much as they were wont to be when all their time was devoted to hunting, and in addition to that, each was supplied with a pair of pistols. Their being armed, was now absolutely necessary, both as a means of defence in case it should be necessary, and likewise for the purpose of providing themselves with food in the vast wilderness through which they were about to travel. At the door were standing three horses equipped for a journey, and around them a group of friends had gathered. The preparations now being completed, “Come Earth,” said Rolfe, “if you are ready, we will set out.”

“Agreed,” said Earth, “for to be armed as I am, makes me think of old times, and we shall be right apt to have some fun.” Then turning to the crowd, “Come now boys, try and settle up before I git back, and tell your neighbours to do the same; don't be backward about your taxes because I am gone; I shall expect to see the thing straight; now you all hear me:” then shaking hands familiarly, Rolfe did the same, and mounting, they, with Oloompa, were off amid the wishes of many friends for a prosperous and safe journey. The gloom which had shaded the brow of Oloompa, now passed away, and he was cheerful and happy at the idea of again entering the woods. Rolfe and Earth were blithe as boys, and although so long a journey lay before them, they spurred their horses and put off in a gallop, the woods echoing to many a hearty laugh as they moved along. Leaving them to pursue their journey, we must detail other incidents in our story.

The Indian affairs on the northwestern frontier were now every day assuming a more hostile appearance, alarm and consternation manifested itself so strongly among the frontier settlers, that Governor Harrison was ordered to hold himself in readiness to attack or defend as subsequent events might require.

The Prophet's band had considerably increased, and although nothing had as yet occurred, which could be regarded as a declaration of hostilities, yet every thing indicated that to preserve peace under present circumstances would be impossible. Mysterious meetings were continually held among the Indians, and orators were never wanting, to paint to them in high wrought colours, the wrongs and grievances under which they suffered. English agents, agents from the most enlightened and civilized country on the globe, were found in attendance at all their meetings, inflaming their prejudices, exciting their passions, and urging them on to a cruel and relentless war against the Americans, a people who had won for themselves the applause of the world, and of whom England, as their mother country, should have been justly proud. And not only was England, proud England, thus warring with those united to her by the strongest ties of blood, but she was urging on to inevitable extermination the innocent and happy aborigines of our country.—She turned their thoughts from the channels in which they were accustomed to flow, and made them dream of dominion and of conquest.—She harked on those, whose passions, when excited, justly entitled them to the appellation of “blood hounds of war,” and turned them loose against the helpless mother, and the new-born babe. She by her influence set fire to our cabins, along the entire north-western frontier, and by the red glare which lighted up the dark and surrounding forest, showed the mangled remains of butchered families. Yes, England, by thy agents thou hast done this and much more; yet with its recital, there is blended no unkind feeling—for I still love thee as thou art, “a handful of earth cast upon the wide waters”—yes, I love thee, and have wandered with pleasure over thy lands, and gazed with delight on thy cities, thy wealth, thy pomp, and thy pageantry;—and yet, if when looking abroad, from the top of one of your green clad hills, upon the wide and extended landscape which lay before me, I should have been reminded of the beautiful prairies in my own native land; and while dwelling in fancy for a moment upon them, I have thought of the desolation which had sometimes marked an Indian trail, together with some of the stories which were told of British influence, pardon me, I could not help it. As I said before, I still love thee; thou art great and powerful; charity, benevolence, hospitality, unbounded knowledge, together with all that is beautiful and bright in science, dwells with thee;—the finest specimens of art, the loveliest landscapes in nature are all thy own;—and thy errors, for errors thou hast committed, must be regarded only as the accidental stains which sometimes deface the most beautiful picture.

It is impossible for an American to read a history of the part played by British agents at the period here alluded to, without feeling excited, but it has long passed, and with it let pass the feelings which such a recital is calculated to engender. To Tecumseh and the Prophet they first made their propositions;—to men suffering under real or imaginary wrongs, and whose whole souls were bent upon the accomplishment of a particular purpose. They were found not to be unwilling listeners.—They were offered arms and ammunition, and promised assistance, if necessary.—The breach between the brothers and the United States, had been daily widening, and they now saw that a struggle was inevitable. The only hope of peace, was in the wished for restoration of the lands lately purchased, and this the Governor had informed them was impossible. The offer of arms and ammunition on the part of the British agents was therefore seasonable, and the brothers accepted it. Yet they knew that they were not offered through kindness to the Indians, but through hatred to the Americans. Such was Tecumseh's perfect understanding of the motive which governed the agents, as he often stated.

Tecumseh's exertions were now great and unremitting; he visited every north and western tribe, animated their warriors, strengthened the confederacy which he had already formed, and prepared them at once for the coming contest. Never was a monarch's voice more absolute than his. If he commanded, he was obeyed; if he expressed a wish, it was executed. And this power, which he looked forward to when unknown, he had obtained by the energy of his own great spirit,—aided by the deep sagacity and forethought of his brother. He had mastered thousands of his fellow men, and bound them to him by the most indissoluble ties, who were as wild as the beasts they hunted;—who belonged to different tribes, and who spoke different languages. He had reconciled all the differences which existed among the various tribes, mastered their feelings by his warm, gushing eloquence; led them whither he pleased; had preached to them peace, yet prepared them for war, and they never, from the beginning, knew what it was he intended. He was bold, ardent, and indefatigable in his exertions. To-day his voice was heard on the Wabash, to-morrow, he was declaiming on the shores of the lakes.

Rumours were now daily coming in, of hostile intentions on the part of the Indians; several murders had been committed by the respective parties, which served very much to exasperate each, and authentic information was forwarded to the Governor of the existence of the confederacy which Tecumseh had formed. Preparations were made on his part for immediate action, and besides the military already in service, the militia of the neighbouring states had been ordered to hold themselves ready to move, whenever required.

At this time Tecumseh returned from a visit to the North-west, and assured Elkswatawa, that in that quarter all was right, and nothing waited for but the signal to strike. At the Prophet's camp, and along the Wabash, the Indians were excited to the highest possible degree, and the difficulty now with him, was to restrain them. Worked into fury by the continual practising of his mysterious rites, members of his band, had, counter to his orders, invaded the settlements and dipped their hands in the blood of the whites. Having done this, they were still more excited, and howling like dogs, were anxious to be unleashed against their prey. New muskets, powder, and balls had already been obtained from the English, and safely deposited at Tippecanoe, and the Prophet having made all preparations as far as he was capable, and also fearing lest the conduct of his followers should call down the vengeance of the whites, before he had organized any plan of attack, proposed to Tecumseh that they should designate a time when the first blow was to be struck. Tecumseh was all anxiety for battle, but he felt that his schemes were not yet matured. He knew not what was the disposition of the southern tribes. He had sent emissaries among the Creeks, Chocktaws, and Cherokees, but had not, as yet, visited them in person, and he was anxious to do so that he might obtain their co-operation, and urging them to strike in the south, at the same time that he did in the north-west, divert the attention of the whites, kindle the flame of war along the whole frontier, and by concentrating his forces when least expected, make themselves sure of victory. Elkswatawa saw the propriety of the measure, but withheld his consent; Tecumseh, however, assured him that in a few days he would set out for the south, visit the various tribes in that quarter, bind them to his confederacy, if threats or persuasion could avail, “and then,” said he, “the red torch shall blaze, and the war-whoop ring.”

This would have been perfectly agreeable to Elkswatawa, but for the excited state of his followers; he knew the feelings of the whites towards him, and he also knew that they were preparing for hostilities. He feared lest some premature occurrence should take place before Tecumseh could return, and being anxious that success should crown the first attack of the Indians, or to use his own language, “that they should strike a sure and heavy blow,” he urged immediate action; and suggested that they should, by stratagem, endeavour to obtain possession of the person of General Harrison, and at the same time seize upon the town of Vincennes, which he thought practicable, and which, if accomplished, would ensure the success of all their schemes. It was while they were debating about this, that an incident occurred, which settled their deliberations.

General Harrison, who, as before stated, was prepared for action, actuated by a spirit of humanity; determined to make another effort for the preservation of peace, and with that view sent an address to the two brothers, calling them by name and styling them the “chiefs of the confederation of various tribes residing at Tippecanoe.” The address commenced by setting forth the various rumours which had reached him, thereby showing the brothers that their intentions were known, and endeavouring to dissuade them from hostilities, by showing the utter impracticability of their purpose. Portions of the document ran thus, “Brothers, our citizens are alarmed, and my warriors are preparing themselves; not to strike you, but to defend themselves, their wives and children. You shall not surprise us as you expect to do; you are about to undertake a very rash act, I advise you to consider well of it, it is not yet too late.

“Brothers, what inducement have you to undertake an enterprise where there is so little probability of success?—do you really think that the handful of men, which you have about you, are able to contend with the power of the ‘Seventeen Fires,’ or even that the whole of your tribes united, could contend with the ‘Kentucky Fire’ alone?

“Brothers, I am myself of the ‘Long Knife Fire;’ as soon as they hear my voice, you will see them pouring forth their swarms of hunting-shirt men, as numerous as the mosquitoes on the shores of the Wabash; brothers, take care of their stings.

“Brothers, I hear that you talk of coming to see me, attended by all your young men, this, however, must not be so; if your intentions are good, you have no need to bring but a few of your young men with you. I must be plain with you, I will not suffer you to come into our settlements with such a force.”

The reception of this accorded with their designs; it gave them a good excuse for visiting Vincennes, and upon consultation with each other, they determined to answer it, and name a day for their visit.

Having resolved to do so, Tecumseh replied in the following words:—

“Brother, I give you a few words until I be with you myself.

“TECUMSEH.”

“Brother at Vincennes, I wish you to listen to me while I send you a few words, and I hope that they will ease your heart; I know you look on your young men, and your women, and children with pity, to see them so much alarmed.

“Brother, I wish you to examine what you have from me, I hope it will be a satisfaction to you, if your intentions are like mine to wash away all these bad stories that have been circulated. I will be with you myself in eighteen days from this day.

“Brother, we cannot say what will become of us, as the Great Spirit has the management of us at his will. I may be there before the time, and may not be there until the day. I hope that when we come together all these bad tales will be settled; by this I hope your young men, your women and children will be easy. I wish you, brother, to let them know when I come to Vincennes and see you, that all will be settled in peace and happiness.

“Brother, these are only a few words to let you know that I will be with you myself, and when I am with you, I can inform you better.

“Brother, if I find I can be with you in less time than eighteen days, I will send one of my young men before me, to let you know what time I will be with you.

“July 4th, 1811.”

Tecumseh's letter having been forwarded to Gen. Harrison, the brothers again met in conference. It seemed that their wishes had been anticipated, and they determined to visit Vincennes, and if deemed practicable after their arrival there, to seize the Governor and massacre the inhabitants. The journeying there would at least afford employment for a time for the Prophet's followers, and if nothing could be effected, Tecumseh resolved to continue on from there to the south and leave Elkswatawa to return to Tippecanoe. The Governor had objected to their visiting him with a large retinue, and to obviate this they agreed to set out with but few followers, and let their warriors come on and join them at Vincennes in roving parties, they themselves professing at the time utter ignorance of their coming. The determination which they had now formed, only served to excite them still more, and they proceeded at once to prepare for their visit. The moment had now arrived when they were about to place the success of those schemes which they had so long been maturing upon a single chance. Yet with all this they blended prudence, for their designs were not communicated to their warriors, who armed, were ordered to move forward and attend a meeting which was to be held at Vincennes, nor were they to be made acquainted with them unless it was desirable to do so after their arrival. They well knew that in their present excited condition, if the object of their visit was known, no power could restrain them, and that an attempt would be made upon the town, however impolitic it might be. Between themselves, they agreed that no attempt was to be made, if they were even suspected: for they believed that the success of their enterprise depended entirely on their success at first; and it did to a great extent, for a failure at first would prove Elkswatawa false as a Prophet, and most probably destroy all the influence which he now possessed, and which he had laboured so long to obtain. None of the distant members of the confederacy they had formed, knew any thing of this scheme.—The warriors who were to accompany them, resided chiefly on the Wabash, and all that Tecumseh had visited were sufficiently excited, and now only awaited his orders. The time appointed for their promised visit had now arrived and passed, and completing their preparations, the brothers sat out for Vincennes.

Upon the reception of Tecumseh's letter, General Harrison began to make preparations for the expected visit, and also to place himself in a situation to repel successfully any attack that might be made, and, as a further defence, a messenger was sent forward to meet Tecumseh, and prevent his coming to the council with an armed force. The eighteenth day arrived,—Vincennes was filled with soldiery, marching and countermarching in every direction; all was bustle and expectation, yet the sun went down, and no tidings were heard of Tecumseh. Several days also passed, and still he came not. At last, the messenger returned, saying, that “Tecumseh was on his march, and with more men than he should have brought to the council;—that when told of the impropriety of bringing so many, he stated that they came of their own accord,—that his guard consisted of but twenty-four men, and that over the remainder he exercised no influence; moreover, that the Governor need not be alarmed, for he came to settle peaceably all their differences.”

On Saturday, the 27th, Tecumseh and Elkswatawa made their appearance at Vincennes, attended by about one hundred warriors. General Harrison, anxious to bring the conference to a close, proposed that it should be held early on Monday morning. To this, Tecumseh objected, and even declined designating a day. The Governor, with a hope of intimidating the Indians, had called a general parade of the militia of the county of Knox.—These, all well armed, were in attendance, amounting in number to about eight hundred. There were also several companies of regular infantry, and a fine troop of cavalry, seventy strong. To see them go through their evolutions, the brothers, with their warriors, were invited. They attended:—they manifested no surprise,—they showed no fear; yet the exhibition had thwarted their plans, and showed the madness of their enterprise. When Tecumseh saw this, he observed, “we will not strike, they are ready.” Elkswatawa sighed, and the brothers returned to their camp.

Monday came,—the whites assembled at the place prepared for the council, and yet the Indians came not. Tuesday came, and it was found that Tecumseh's one hundred men now amounted to three hundred, and that roving bands filled the neighbouring woods.

The brothers now being satisfied that no hope of success remained, and seeing that the whites had prepared themselves as if expecting a surprise, determined to go into council, conciliate the whites if they could, and leave the town. They saw that their presence with their followers created a feverish state of excitement, which, as they could now effect nothing, they were anxious to destroy. In accordance with this agreement, Tecumseh sent a messenger to General Harrison, saying, he was “ready for the conference, and wishing to know whether the Governor would be attended by armed men.” The answer was, that “Tecumseh had his choice; if his men were armed, those of the Governor would be so likewise; if not, then none would be armed.” Tecumseh, however, decided on having a guard, and selected from his warriors two hundred, well armed with bows, tomahawks, rifles, and war clubs, and the two brothers marched to the place appointed for the council.

The whites had already assembled, and the bright muskets of the military glittered in the sun. In advance of the crowd, was stationed a troop of dragoons, seventy strong, dismounted, and armed with a sword and two pistols each; before them, and about their centre was seated General Harrison. Directly opposite this troop, Tecumseh and Elkswatawa led their warriors, and placing themselves in front of their band, they occupied a situation corresponding with that of the Governor. On the one side, was a large and well armed force; on the other, Tecumseh, with his swarthy band, bold, fearless, and undaunted, and as seemingly indifferent to the circumstances in which they were placed as though they had been in their own wigwams.

The conference was opened by a speech from the Governor, in which he accused the brothers of hostile intentions,—spoke of the alarm existing on the frontiers,—demanded that the Indians should be given up who had lately committed murders in Illinois,—adverted to their coming to a friendly conference with so large a retinue; and while he expressed his willingness to hear what Tecumseh had to say in reference to the lands, stated, that he had no power to relinquish them, and that it must be settled only by the President. His speech occupied some time, and in reply, Tecumseh rose.—He was calm and dignified, and as free in debate as though he were addressing a single individual. He denied that he intended hostilities against the whites, but admitted that he had formed a confederacy of all the northwestern tribes; but that it was formed to preserve peace, and to preserve themselves. “The United States,” he said, “had set the example of forming a union among all the ‘Fires,’—the Indians did not object to it, nor did they view it as a hostile act; why, then, should they object to the Indians forming a union?” He said, “the union he would form; that his object was peace; and now having bound together the northwestern Indians, he would, as soon as the council broke, go to the south, for the purpose of visiting the Chickasaws, Choctaws, and Creeks.” In regard to the murders which had been committed, he stated, that “he had set the example of forgiveness, by pardoning persons who had killed his men,—that he had even surrendered his men to punishment when they had committed murders on the whites, as was stipulated for in the treaty of Greenville; but that many Indians had been murdered,—the murderers had been demanded, and as yet not a single white man had ever been given up; and therefore, he must ask the Governor to pardon those who had lately offended.” Fatigued from the exertion he had made, which was long and vehement, in the discussion of the subjects above enumerated, the mere heads of which are given, he asked an adjournment until the next day, which was granted, and he then delivered to the Governor, as he saw he was dissatisfied, a belt of wampum, as a satisfaction for the murders which had been committed. The council then adjourned over to the following day.

Having returned to their camp, the brothers again met in secret conference, but they were sad and dispirited; preparations had been made for which they were not prepared; and by which not only were their plans thwarted, but they feared the effect which such a military display was calculated to have upon their own followers. To obviate this, and to explain to them what had, as yet, been done in council, a general meeting was called. It was now late at night—the moon was full, and “riding high in Heaven,” the evening was mild, with only air enough to stir their jet black locks, or whisper in soft low accents as it passed through the neighbouring trees, when Elkswatawa rose, and began to sing an evening hymn; soon the crowd joined with him, and as he led the song, he inwove with it a narration of their sufferings, and blended with it the glorious promises of the Great Spirit. His followers were now excited to the highest degree, and ready for any enterprise however hazardous. He then called for silence and detailed the views of the Governor which had been given in council,—ridiculed them, and laughed at his calling out all his men, for the purpose of frightening them into a compliance with his wishes.

Having exhausted himself, he was seated, and Tecumseh rose, he began by attempting to destroy any impression which might have been made by the military display at Vincennes; he roused their pride, he inflamed their passions, he complimented them on their bravery and noble bearing, and looked to the future for a realization of all their hopes;—he exhorted them to peace, and sobriety, and orderly conduct, and told them that the time had not yet come.

The Indians had been led to believe by the Prophet, that their lands were to be restored to them, and their condition in other respects essentially benefitted, but how it was to be effected many did not know; some had vague and uncertain ideas of the manner, and it was as yet only the warm partizans of the brothers among the various tribes to whom their plans had been fully developed. Tecumseh's remark therefore, “that the time had not yet come,” was understood by but few of the mass of his hearers,—yet he went on to develope his plans more and more to his followers;—dwelling upon the perfidy of the whites—suggesting the probability of an attack from them, and urging the necessity of their being always prepared. He told them that the council would break up on the morrow, and that he would set out immediately on a visit to the southern Indians, to get them to join their confederacy and to tell them of the conduct of the whites. He then advised them to return to their homes, and commit no aggressions; that the whites would only make it an excuse to seize their lands and treat them amiss while he was absent; that, having returned from the south, he would visit the President, and their claims should then be attended to. The meeting was then adjourned, sentinels placed to prevent a surprise, and all was quiet in the camp.

The following day the whites again assembled in council, yet the day was far spent when the brothers, with their warriors, made their appearance. The same disposition of themselves and forces was made that had been adopted the day before, and the council was again opened. Tecumseh continued his speech;—narrated the wrongs of the Indians, and demanded retro-cession of the lands lately purchased. At its close, much fatigued, he turned to look for a chair; no seat had been provided for him, and feeling slighted, he turned with an indignant air towards the Governor, who, observing it, ordered one to be handed. It was done; with the remark, “your Father requests you to take a chair.” “My Father!” said Tecumseh, casting it proudly from him, “the sun is my father, the earth my mother; upon her bosom I will repose;” and he stretched himself upon the ground. The debate was still warmly continued, several other chiefs of the red men addressed the assembly, the day closed, and yet nothing had been done. Charges were made against the whites by the Indians, and charges were made against the Indians by the whites; each party professed to desire peace, yet neither would do that which would give satisfaction to the other.

The moon was now high, and the night wearing away, when the Governor, anxious to put an end to the conference, told Tecumseh, that he had stated that his designs were peaceable, and he could now prove it, by delivering over to punishment the Indians who had lately committed the murders in Illinois, otherwise his intentions would be viewed as at war with his declarations. Tecumseh, in answer, stated that he could not give them up; he had pardoned the whites when they had killed his men, and he must now require from them the same forgiveness.

The Governor then asked him if he intended to prevent the settlement of the new purchase. He replied, that he hoped no attempt would be made to settle it until his return from the south;—that he had formed a confederacy of all the north-western tribes, and as soon as the council broke, he should visit the southern tribes for the same purpose;—that while he was absent, many Indians from the far west tribes, would settle at his town, and that the lands of the late purchase they would wish to use as hunting grounds, and that therefore he would wish no attempt made to survey them until his return, as it might lead to some difficulty;—and farther, that he wished no revenge sought for any injury which might be committed during his absence; that his intentions were peaceable, and upon his return he would himself visit the President, and settle all their differences;—that in the mean time, as the affairs of all the north-western Indians were in his hands, and nothing could be done without him, he would send messengers to all the tribes to prevent them from doing any mischief. These remarks called for a reply on the part of the Governor; nothing was effected—the council adjourned, and the brothers with their warriors, leaving the town, retired to their camp.

The next morning early, Tecumseh, having exacted a promise from his brother, that he would make no move until his return, descended the Wabash with twenty four men, on his way to the south, while Elkswatawa, with the remainder of the band, returned quietly to Tippecanoe.