Tecumseh : a Drama

SCENE FIRST:--BEFORE THE PROPHET'S TOWN.

_Enter_ TECUMSEH _and_ LEFROY.

Tecumseh. No guard or outlook--here! This is most strange. Chance reigns where prudence sleeps!

_Enter a_ BRAVE.

Here comes a brave With frenzy in his face Where is the Prophet?

Brave. He fasts alone within the medicine-lodge, And talks to our Great Spirit. All our braves, Huddling in fear, stand motionless without, Thrilled by strange sounds, and voices not of earth.

Tecumseh. How long has it been thus?

Brave. Four nights have passed And none have seen his face; but all have heard His dreadful tongue, in incantations deep, Fetch horrors up--vile beings flashed from hell, Who fought as devils fight, until the lodge Shook to its base with struggling, and the earth Quaked as, with magic strength, he flung them down. These strove with him for mastery of our fate; But, being foiled, Yohewa has appeared, And, in the darkness of our sacred lodge, Communes with him.

Tecumseh. Our Spirit great and good! He comes not here for nought. What has he promised?

Brave. Much! for henceforth we are invulnerable. The bullets of the Long-Knives will rebound, Like petty hailstones, from our naked breasts; And, in the misty morns of our attack, Strange lights will shine on them to guide our aim, Whilst clouds of gloom will screen us from their sight.

Tecumseh. The Prophet is a wise interpreter, And all his words, by valour backed, will stand; For valour is the weapon of the soul, More dreaded by our vaunting enemies Than the plumed arrow, or the screaming ball. What wizardry and witchcraft has he found Conspiring 'gainst our people's good?

Brave. Why, none! Wizard and witch are weeded out, he says; Not one is left to do us hurt.

Tecumseh. 'Tis well! My brother has the eyeball of the horse, And swerves from danger. (_Aside_.) Bid our warriors come! I wait them here.

[_Exit_ BRAVE.]

The Prophet soon will follow.

Lefroy. Now opportunity attend my heart Which waits for Iena! True love's behest, Outrunning war's, will bring her to my arms Ere cease the braves from gasping wonderment.

Tecumseh. First look on service ere you look on love; You shall not see her here.

Lefroy. My promises Are sureties of my service--

Tecumseh. But your deeds, Accomplishments; our people count on deeds. Be patient! Look upon our warriors Roped round with scars and cicatrized wounds, Inflicted in deep trial of their spirit Their skewered sides are proofs of manly souls, Which--had one groan escaped from agony-- Would all have sunk beneath our women's heels, Unfit for earth or heaven. So try your heart, And let endurance swallow all love's sighs. Yoke up your valour with our people's cause, And I, who love your nation, which is just, When deeds deserve it, will adopt you here, By ancient custom of our race, and join Iena's hand to yours.

Lefroy. Your own hand first In pledge of this!

Tecumseh. It ever goes with truth!

Lefroy. Now come some wind of chance, and show me her But for one heavenly moment! as when leaves Are blown aside in summer, and we see The nested oriole.

[_Enter Chiefs and warriors--The warriors cluster around_ TECUMSEH, _shouting and discharging their pieces_.]

Tecumseh. My chiefs and braves!

Miami Chief. Fall back! Fall back! Ye press too close on him.

Tecumseh. My friends! our joy is like to meeting streams, Which draw into a deep and prouder bed.

[_Shouts from the warriors_.]

Delaware Chief. Silence, ye braves! let great Tecumseh speak!

[_The warriors fall back_.]

Tecumseh. Comrades, and faithful warriors of our race! Ye who defeated Hartnar and St Clair, And made their hosts a winter's feast for wolves! I call on you to follow me again, Not now for war, but as forearmed for fight. As ever in the past so is it still: Our sacred treaties are infringed and torn; Laughed out of sanctity, and spurned away; Used by the Long-Knife's slave to light his fire, Or turned to kites by thoughtless boys, whose wrists Anchor their fathers' lies in front of heaven. And now we're asked to Council at Vincennes; To bend to lawless ravage of our lands, To treacherous bargains, contracts false, wherein One side is bound, the other loose as air! Where are those villains of our race and blood Who signed the treaties that unseat us here; That rob us of rich plains and forests wide; And which, consented to, will drive us hence To stage our lodges in the Northern Lakes, In penalties of hunger worse than death? Where are they? that we may confront them now With your wronged sires, your mothers, wives and babes, And, wringing from their false and slavish lips Confession of their baseness, brand with shame The traitor hands which sign us to our graves.

Miami Chief. Some are age-bent and blind, and others sprawl, And stagger in the Long-Knife's villages; And some are dead, and some have fled away, And some are lurking in the forest here, Sneaking, like dogs, until resentment cools.

Kickapoo Chief. We all disclaim their treaties. Should they come, Forced from their lairs by hunger, to our doors, Swift punishment will light upon their heads.

Tecumseh. Put yokes upon them! let their mouths be bound! For they are swine who root with champing jaws Their fathers' fields, and swallow their own offspring.

_Enter the_ PROPHET _in his robe--his face discoloured_.

The Prophet! Welcome, my brother, from the lodge of dreams! Hail to thee, sagest among men--great heir Of all the wisdom of Pengasega!

Prophet. This pale-face here again! this hateful snake, Who crawls between our people and their laws! (_Aside_.) Your greeting, brother, takes the chill from mine, When last we parted you were not so kind.

Tecumseh. The Prophet's wisdom covers all. He knows Why Nature varies in her handiwork, Moulding one man from snow, the next from fire--

Prophet. Which temper is your own, and blazes up, In winds of passion like a burning pine.

Tecumseh. 'Twill blaze no more unless to scorch our foes. My brother, there's my hand--for I am grieved That aught befell to shake our proper love. Our purpose is too high, and full of danger; We have too vast a quarrel on our hands To waste our breath on this.

[_Steps forward and offers his hand_.]

Prophet. My hand to yours.

SEVERAL CHIEFS. Tecumseh and the Prophet are rejoined!

Tecumseh. Now, but one petty cloud distains our sky. My brother, this man loves our people well.

[_Pointing to_ LEFROY.]

Lefroy. I know he hates me, yet I hope to win My way into his heart.

Prophet. There--take my hand! I must dissemble. Would this palm were poison! (_Aside_.) (_To_ TECUMSEH) What of the Wyandots? And yet I know! I have been up among the clouds, and down Into the entrails of the earth, and seen The dwelling-place of devils. All my dreams Are from above, and therefore favour us.

Tecumseh. With one accord the Wyandots disclaim The treaties of Fort Wayne, and burn with rage. Their tryst is here, and some will go with me To Council at Vincennes. Where's Winnemac?

Miami Chief. That recreant has joined our enemies, And with the peace-pipe sits beside their fire, And whins away our lives.

Kickapoo Chief. The Deaf-Chief, too, With head awry, who cannot hear us speak Though thunder shouted for us from the skies, Yet hears the Long-Knives whisper at Vincennes; And, when they jest upon our miseries, Grips his old leathern sides, and coughs with laughter.

Delaware Chief. And old Kanaukwa--famed when we were young-- Has hid his axe, and washed his honours off.

Tecumseh. 'Tis honor he has parted with, not honors; Good deeds are ne'er forespent, nor wiped away. I know these men; they've lost their followers, And, grasping at the shadow of command, Where sway and custom once had realty, By times, and turn about, follow each other. They count for nought--but Winnemac is true, Though over-politic; he will not leave us.

Prophet. Those wizened snakes must be destroyed at once!

Tecumseh. Have mercy, brother--those poor men are old.

Prophet. Nay, I shall teaze them till they sting themselves; Their rusty fangs are doubly dangerous.

Tecumseh. What warriors are ready for Vincennes?

WARRIORS. All! All are ready. Tecumseh leads us on--we follow him.

Tecumseh. Four hundred warriors will go with me, All armed, yet only for security Against the deep designs of Harrison. For 'tis my purpose still to temporize, Not break with him in war till once again I scour the far emplacements of our tribes. Then shall we close at once on all our foes. They claim our lands, but we shall take their lives; Drive out their thievish souls, and spread their bones To bleach upon the misty Alleghanies; Or make death's treaty with them on the spot, And sign our bloody marks upon their crowns For lack of schooling--ceding but enough Of all the lands they covet for their graves.

Miami Chief. Tecumseh's tongue is housed in wisdom's cheeks; His valour and his prudence march together.

Delaware Chief. 'Tis wise to draw the distant nations on. This scheme will so extend the Long-Knife force, In lines defensive stretching to the sea, Their bands will be but morsels for our braves.

Prophet. How long must this bold project take to ripen? Time marches with the foe, and his surveyors Already smudge our forests with their fires. It frets my blood and makes my bowels turn To see those devils blaze our ancient oaks, Cry "right!" and drive their rascal pickets down. Why not make war on them at once?

Tecumseh. Not now! Time will make room for weightier affairs. Be this the disposition for the hour: Our warriors from Vincennes will all return, Save twenty--the companions of my journey-- And this brave white, who longs to share our toil, And win his love by deeds in our defence. You, brother, shall remain to guard our town, Our wives, our children, all that's dear to us-- Receive each fresh accession to our strength; And from the hidden world, which you inspect, Draw a divine instruction for their souls. Go, now, ye noble chiefs and warriors! Make preparation--I'll be with you soon. To-morrow we shall make the Wabash boil, And beat its current, racing to Vincennes.

[_Exeunt all but_ TECUMSEH _and the_ PROPHET.]

Prophet. I shall return unto our sacred lodge, And there invoke the Spirit of the Wind To follow you, and blow good tidings back.

Tecumseh. Our strait is such we need the help of heaven. Use all your wisdom, brother, but--beware! Pluck not our enterprise while it is green, And breed no quarrel here till I return. Avoid it as you would the rattling snake; And, when you hear the sound of danger, shrink, And face it not, unless with belts of peace. White wampum, not the dark, till we can strike With certain aim. Can I depend on you?

Prophet. Trust you in fire to burn, or cold to freeze? So may you trust in me. The heavy charge Which you have laid upon my shoulders now Would weigh the very soul of rashness down.

[_Exit the_ PROPHET.]

Tecumseh. I think I can depend on him--I must! Yet do I know his crafty nature well-- His hatred of our foes, his love of self, And wide ambition. What is mortal man? Who can divine this creature that doth take Some colour from all others? Nor shall I Push cold conclusions 'gainst my brother's sum Of what is good--so let dependence rest!

[_Exit_.]

SCENE SECOND--VINCENNES--A STREET.

_Enter Citizens_ GERKIN, SLAUGH and TWANG.

Gerkin. Ain't it about time Barron was back, Jedge?

Twang. I reckon so. Our Guvner takes a crazy sight more pains than I would to sweetin thet ragin' devil Tecumseh's temper. I'd sweetin it wi' sugar o lead ef I had _my_ way.

Slaugh. It's a reekin' shame--dang me ef it aint. End thet two-faced, one-eyed brother o' his, the Prophet.-- I'll be darned ef folks don't say thet the Shakers in them 'ere parts claims him fer a disciple!

Twang. Them Shakers is a queer lot. They dance jest like wild Injuns, and thinks we orter be kind to the red rascals, end use them honestly.

Gerkin. Wall! Thet's what our Guvner ses tew. But I reckon he's shammin' a bit Twist you and me, he's on the make like the rest o' us. Think o' bein' kind to a red devil thet would lift your har ten minutes arter! End as fer honesty--I say "set 'em up" every time, and then rob 'em. Thet's the way to clar them out o' the kentry. Whiskey's better 'n gunpowder, end costs less than fightin' 'em in the long run.

_Enter_ CITIZEN BLOAT.

Twang. Thet's so! Hello, Major, what's up? You look kind o' riled to-day.

Bloat. Wall, Jedge, I dew feel right mad--have you heerd the noos?

Twang. No! has old Sledge bust you at the keerds again?

Bloat. Old Sledge be darned! I had jest clar'd him out o' continentals--fifty to the shillin'--at his own game, when in ript Roudi--the Eyetalian that knifed the Muskoe Injun for peekin' through his bar-room winder last spring--jest down from Fort Knox. You know the chap, General; you was on his jury.

Slaugh. I reckon I dew. The Court was agin him, but we acquitted him afore the Chief-Justice finished his charge, and gave him a vote o' thanks to boot. There's a heap o' furriners creepin' inter these parts--poor downtrodden cusses from Europe--end, ef they're all like Roudi, they'll dew--a'most as hendy wi' the knife as our own people. But what's up?

Bloat. Roudi saw Barron at Fort Knox, restin' thar on his way back from the Prophet's Town, end he sez thet red assassin Tecumseh's a-cumin' down wi' four hundred o' his painted devils to convarse wi' our Guvner. They're all armed, he sez, end will be here afore mid- day.

Slaugh. Wall! our Guvner notified him to come--he's only gettin' what he axed for. There'll be a deal o' loose har flitterin' about the streets afore night, I reckon. Harrison's a heap too soft wi' them red roosters; he h'aint got cheek enough.

Gerkin. I've heerd say the Guvner, end the Chief Justice tew, thinks a sight o' this tearin' red devil. They say he's a great man. They say, tew, thet our treaty Injuns air badly used--thet they shouldn't be meddled wi' on their resarves, end should hev skoolin'.

Bloat. Skoolin'! That gits me! Dogoned ef I wouldn't larn them jest one thing--what them regler officers up to the Fort larns their dogs--"to drap to shot," only in a different kind o' way like; end, es fer their resarves, I say, give our farmers a chance--let them locate!

Twang. Thet's so, Major! What arthly use air they-- plouterin' about their little bits o' fields, wi' their little bits o' cabins, end livin' half the time on mush- rats? I say, let them move out, end give reliable citizens a chance.

Slaugh. Wall, I reckon our Guvner's kind's about played out. They call themselves the old stock--the clean pea --the rale gentlemen o' the Revolooshun. But, gentlemen, ain't we the Revolooshun? Jest wait till the live citizens o' these United States end Territories gits a chance, end we'll show them gentry what a free people, wi' our institooshuns, _kin_ do. There'll be no more talk o' skoolin fer Injuns, you bet! I'd give them Kernel Crunch's billet.

Gerkin. What was thet, General?

Slaugh. Why, they say he killed a hull family o' redskins, and stuck 'em up as scar' crows in his wheat fields. Gentlemen, there's nothin' like original idees!

Twang. Thet war an original idee! The Kernel orter hev tuk out a patent. I think I've heerd o' Crunch. Wam't he wi' Kernel Crawford, o' the melish', at one time?

SLAUGH Whar?

Twang. Why over to the Muskingum. You've heerd o' them Delaware Moravians over to the Muskingum, surely?

Slaugh. Oh, them convarted chaps! but I a'most forgit the carcumstance.

Twang. Wall, them red devils had a nice resarve thar-- as yieldin' a bit o' sile as one could strike this side o' the Alleghanies. They was all convarted by the Moravians, end pertended to be as quiet and peaceable as the Shakers hereabout But Kernel Crawford--who knew good sile when he sot his eyes on it--diskivered thet them prayin' chaps had helped a war-party from the North, wi' provisions--or thort they did, which was the same thing. So--one fine Sunday--he surrounds their church wi' his melish'--when the Injuns was all a- prayin'--end walks in himself, jest for a minute or two, end prays a bit so as not to skeer them tew soon, end then walks out, end locks the door. The Kernel then cutely--my heart kind o' warms to thet man--put a squad o' melish' at each winder wi' their bayonets pinted, end sot fire to the Church, end charred up the hull kit, preacher and all! The heft o' them was burnt; but some thet warn't thar skinned out o' the kentry, end got lands from the British up to the Thames River in Canady, end founded what they call the Moravian Towns thar; and thar they is still--fur them Britishers kind o' pampers the Injuns, so they may git at our scalps.

Slaugh. I reckon we'll hev a tussle wi' them gentry afore long. But for Noo England we'd a hed it afore now; but them Noo Englanders kind o' curries to the Britishers. A war would spile their shippin', end so they're agin it. But we h'aint got no ships to spile in this western kentry, end so I reckon we'll pitch in.

Gerkin. We'd better git out o' this Injun fry-pan fust, old hoss! I could lick my own weight in wild-cats, but this ruck o' Injuns is jest a little tew hefty.

Bloat. Maybe they want to come to skool, end start store, end sich!

Gerkin. Gentlemen--I mean to send my lady down stream, end I reckon you'd better dew the same wi' your 'uns-- jest fer safety like. My time's limited--will you liquor?

ALL. You bet!

Bloat. (_Meditatively_) Skoolin! Wall, I'll be darned!

[_Exeunt_.]

SCENE THIRD. THE SAME. A ROOM IN GENERAL HARRISON'S HOUSE.

_Enter_ GENERAL HARRISON, _and some Officers of the American Army_.

Harrison. What savage handiwork keeps Barron back?

_Enter_ BARRON.

Ah, here he comes, his looks interpreting Mischief and failure! It is as I feared. What answer do you bring?

Barron. Tecumseh comes To council, with four hundred men at back, To which, with all persuasion, I objected-- As that it would alarm our citizens, Whose hasty temper, by suspicion edged, Might break in broils of quarrel with his braves; But, sir, it was in vain--so be prepared! Your Council records may be writ in blood.

Harrison. Will he attack us, think you?

Barron. No, not now. His present thought is to intimidate. But, lest some rash and foulmouthed citizen Should spur his passion to the run, fore-arm!

Harrison. Tut! Arms are scarce as soldiers in our town, And I am sick of requisitioning. Nay, we must trust to something else than arms. Tecumseh is a savage but in name--Let's trust to him! What says he of our treaties?

Barron. O, he discharges them as heavy loads, Which borne by red men only, break their backs. All lands, he says, are common to his race; Not to be sold but by consent of all.

Harrison. Absurd! This proposition would prevent All purchase and all progress. No, indeed; We cannot tie our hands with such conditions. What of the Prophet? Comes he with the rest?

Barron. The Prophet stays behind.

Harrison. He is a foil Used by Tecumseh to augment his greatness; And, by good husbandry of incantation, And gloomy charms by night, this Prophet works So shrewdly on their braves that every man, Inflamed by auguries of victory, Would rush on death.

1ST OFFICER. Why, General, I heard He over-trumpt you once and won the trick.

Harrison. How so?

1ST OFFICER. Well, once, before his braves, 'tis said, You dared him to a trial of his spells, Which challenge he accepted, having heard From white men of a coming sun-eclipse. Then, shrewdly noting day and hour, he called Boldly his followers round him, and declared That he would hide the sun. They stood and gazed, And, when the moon's colossal shadow fell, They crouched upon the ground, and worshipped him.

Harrison. He caught me there, and mischief came of it. Oh, he is deep. How different those brothers! One dipt in craft, the dye of cruelty, The other frank and open as the day.

_Enter an_ ORDERLY.

Orderly. Tecumseh and his braves have reached the landing!

[_Excitement. All rise hastily_.]

Harrison. This room is smaller than our audience: Take seats and benches to the portico-- There we shall treat with him.

[_Exeunt all but_ GENERAL HARRISON.]

Could I but strain My charge this chief might be our trusty friend. Yet I am but my nation's servitor; Gold is the king who overrides the right, And turns our people from the simple ways, And fair ideal of our fathers' lives.

[_Exit_.]

SCENE FOURTH.--THE SAME. THE PORTICO OF GENERAL HARRISON'S HOUSE. AN OPEN GROVE AT A LITTLE DISTANCE IN FRONT.

[_Curtain rises and discovers_ GENERAL HARRISON, _army officers and citizens, of various quality, including_ TWANG, SLAUGH, GERKIN _and_ BLOAT, _seated in the portico. A sergeant and guard of soldiers near by.

Enter_ TECUMSEH _and his followers with_ LEFROY _in Indian dress. They all stop at the grove_.]

Harrison. Why halts he there? Go tell him he is welcome to our house.

[_An Orderly goes down with message_.]

1ST OFFICER. How grave and decorous they look-- "the mien Of pensive people born in ancient woods." But look at him! Look at Tecumseh there-- How simple in attire! that eagle, plume Sole ornament, and emblem of his spirit. And yet, far-scanned, there's something in his face That likes us not. Would we were out of this!

Harrison. Yes; even at a distance I can see His eyes distilling anger. 'Tis no sign Of treachery, which ever drapes with smiles The most perfidious purpose. Our poor strength Would fall at once should he break out on us; But let us hope 'tis yet a war of wits Where firmness may enact the part of force.

[_Orderly returns_.]

What answer do you bring?

Orderly. Tecumseh says: "Houses are built for whites-- the red man's house, Leaf-roofed, and walled with living oak, is there--

[_Pointing to the grove_.]

Let our white brother meet us in it!"

2ND OFFICER. Oh! White brother! So he levels to your height, And strips your office of its dignity.

3RD OFFICER. 'Tis plain he cares not for your dignity, And touchingly reminds us of our tenets. Our nation spurns the outward shows of state, And ceremony dies for lack of service. Pomp is discrowned, and throned regality Dissolved away in our new land and laws. Man is the Presence here!

1ST OFFICER. Well, for my part, I like not that one in particular.

[_Pointing toward_ TECUMSEH.]

3RD OFFICER. No more do I! I wish I were a crab, And had its courtly fashion of advancing.

Harrison. Best yield to him, the rather that he now Invites our confidence. His heavy force Scants good opinion somewhat, yet I know There's honor, aye, and kindness in this Chief.

[_Rising_.]

3RD OFFICER. Yes, faith, he loves us all, and means to keep Locks of our hair for memory. Here goes.

[_All rise_.] _Servants and soldiers carry chairs and benches to the grove, followed by_ GENERAL HARRISON _and others, who seat themselves-- _TECUMSEH _and his followers still standing in the lower part of the grove_.

Harrison. We have not met to bury our respect, Or mar our plea with lack of courtesy. The Great Chief knows it is his father's wish That he should sit by him.

Tecumseh. My father's wish! My father is the sun; the earth my mother

[_Pointing to each in turn_.]

And on her mighty bosom I shall rest.

[TECUMSEH _and his followers seat themselves on the grass_.]

Harrison. (_Rising_.) I asked Tecumseh to confer with me, Not in war's hue, but for the ends of peace. Our own intent--witness our presence here, Unarmed save those few muskets and our swords. How comes it, then, that he descends on us With this o'erbearing and untimely strength? Tecumseh's virtues are the theme of all; Wisdom and courage, frankness and good faith-- To speak of these things is to think of him! Yet, as one theft makes men suspect the thief-- Be all his life else spent in honesty-- So does one breach of faithfulness in man Wound all his after deeds. There is a pause In some men's goodness like the barren time Of those sweet trees which yield each second year, Wherein what seems a niggardness in nature; Is but good husbandry for future gifts. But this tree bears, and bears most treacherous fruit! Here is a gross infringement of all laws That shelter men in council, where should sit No disproportioned force save that of reason-- Our strong dependence still, and argument, Of better consequence than that of arms, If great Tecumseh should give ear to it.

Tecumseh. (_Rising_.) You called upon Tecumseh and he came! You sent your messenger, asked us to bring Our wide complaint to you--and it is here!

[_Waving his arm toward his followers_.]

Why is our brother angry at our force, Since every man but represents a wrong? Nay! rather should our force be multiplied! Fill up your streets and overflow your fields, And crowd upon the earth for standing room; Still would our wrongs outweigh our witnesses, And scant recital for the lack of tongues. I know your reason, and its bitter heart, Its form of justice, clad with promises-- The cloaks of death! That reason was the snare Which tripped our ancestors in days of yore-- Who knew not falsehood and so feared it not: Men who mistook your fathers' vows for truth, And took them, cold and hungry, to their hearts. Filled them with food, and shared with them their homes, With such return as might make baseness blush. What tree e'er bore such treacherous fruit as this? But let it pass! let wrongs die with the wronged! The red man's memory is full of graves. But wrongs live with the living, who are here-- Inheritors of all our fathers' sighs, And tears, and garments wringing wet with blood. The injuries which you have done to us Cry out for remedy, or wide revenge. Restore the forests you have robbed us of-- Our stolen homes and vales of plenteous com! Give back the boundaries, which are our lives, Ere the axe rise! aught else is reasonless.

Harrison. Tecumseh's passion is a dangerous flood Which sweeps away his judgment. Let him lift His threatened axe to hit defenceless heads! It cannot mar the body of our right, Nor graze the even justice of our claim: These still would live, uncancelled by our death. Let reason rule us, in whose sober light We read those treaties which offend him thus: What nation was the first established here, Settled for centuries, with title sound? You know that people, the Miamies, well. Long ere the white man tripped his anchors cold, To cast them by the glowing western isles, They lived upon these lands in peace, and none Dared cavil at their claim. We bought from them, For such equivalent to largess joined, That every man was hampered with our goods, And stumbled on profusion. But give ear! Jealous lest aught might fail of honesty-- Lest one lean interest or poor shade of right Should point at us--we made the Kickapoo And Delaware the sharer of our gifts, And stretched the arms of bounty over heads Which held but by Miami sufferance. But, you! whence came you? and what rights have you? The Shawanoes are interlopers here-- Witness their name! mere wanderers from the South! Spurned thence by angry Creek and Yamasee-- Now here to stir up strife, and tempt the tribes To break the seals of faith. I am surprised That they should be so led, and more than grieved Tecumseh has such ingrates at his back.

Tecumseh. Call you those ingrates who but claim their own, And owe you nothing but revenge? Those men Are here to answer and confront your lies.

[_Turning to his followers_.]

Miami, Delaware and Kickapoo! Ye are alleged as signers of those deeds-- Those dark and treble treacheries of Fort Wayne.-- Ye chiefs whose cheeks are tanned with battle-smoke, Stand forward then, and answer if you did it!

Kickapoo Chief. (_Rising_.) Not I! I disavow them! They were made By village chiefs whose vanity o'ercame Their judgment, and their duty to our race.

Delaware Chief. (_Rising_.) And I reject the treaties in the name Of all our noted braves and warriors. They have no weight save with the palsied heads Which dote on friendly compacts in the past.

Miami Chief. (_Rising_.) And I renounce them also. They were signed By sottish braves--the Long-Knife's tavern-chiefs-- Who sell their honor like a pack of fur, Make favour with the pale-face for his fee, And caper with the hatchet for his sport. I am a chief by right of blood, and fling Your false and flimsy treaties in your face. I am my nation's head, and own but one As greater than myself, and he is here!

[_Pointing to_ TECUMSEH.]

Tecumseh. You have your answer, and from those whose rights Stand in your own admission. But from me-- The Shawanoe--the interloper here-- Take the full draught of meaning, and wash down Their dry and bitter truths. Yes! from the South My people came--fall'n from their wide estate Where Altamaha's uncongealing springs Kept a perpetual summer in their sight-- Sweet with magnolia blooms, and dropping balm, And scented breath of orange and of pine. And from the East the hunted Delawares came, Flushed from their coverts and their native streams; Your old allies, men ever true to you, Who, resting after long and weary flight, Are by your bands shot sitting on the ground.

Harrison. Those men got ample payment for their lands, Full recompense, and just equivalent.

Tecumseh. They flew from death to light upon it here! And many a tribe comes pouring from the East, Smitten with fire--their outraged women, maimed, Screaming in horror o'er their murdered babes, Whose sinless souls, slashed out by white men's swords, Whimper in Heaven for revenge. Oh, God!-- 'Tis thus the pale-face prays, then cries 'Amen':-- He clamours, and his Maker answers him, Whilst our Great Spirit sleeps! O, no, no, no,-- He does not sleep! He will avenge our wrongs! That Christ the white men murdered, and thought dead-- Who, if He died for mankind, died for us-- He is alive, and looks from heaven on this! Oh, we have seen your baseness and your guile; Our eyes are opened and we know your ways! No longer shall you hoax us with your pleas, Or with the serpent's cunning wake distrust, Range tribe 'gainst tribe--then shoot the remnant down, And in the red man's empty cabin grin, And shake with laughter o'er his desolate hearth. No, we are one! the red men all are one In colour as in love, in lands and fate!

Harrison. Still, with the voice of wrath Tecumseh speaks, And not with reason's tongue.

Tecumseh. O keep your reason! It is a thief which steals away our lands. Your reason is our deadly foe, and writes The jeering epitaphs for our poor graves. It is the lying maker of your books, Wherein our people's vengeance is set down, But not a word of crimes which led to it. These are hushed up and hid, whilst all our deeds, Even in self-defence, are marked as wrongs Heaped on your blameless heads.

But to the point! Just as our brother's Seventeen Council Fires Unite for self-protection so do we. How can you blame us, since your own example Is but our model and fair precedent? The Long-Knife's craft has kept our tribes apart, Nourished dissensions, raised distinctions up, Forced us to injuries which, soon as done, Are made your vile pretexts for bloody war. But this is past our nations now are one-- Ready to rise in their imbanded strength. You promised to restore our ravaged lands On proof that they are ours--that proof is here, And by the tongues of truth has answered you. Redeem your sacred pledges, and no more Our "leaden birds" will sing amongst your corn: But love will shine on you, and startled peace Will come again, and build by every hearth. Refuse--and we shall strike you to the ground! Pour flame and slaughter on your confines wide, Till the charred earth, up to the cope of Heaven, Reeks with the smoke of smouldering villages, And steam of awful fires half-quenched with blood.

[_Citizens converse in undertones_.]

Twang. Did you ever hear the like! Ef I hed my shootin'- iron darn me ef I wouldn't draw a bead on thet barkin' savage. The hungry devil gits under-holts on our Guvner every time.

Slaugh. You bet! I reckon he'd better put a lump o' bacon in his mouth to keep his bilin' sap o' passion down.

Bloat. Thet's mor'n I'd do. This is jest what we git for allowin' the skulkin' devils to live. I'd vittle 'em on lead pills ef I was Guvner.

Twang. Thet's so! Our civilizashun is jest this--we know what's what. Ef I hed _my_ way--

Harrison. Silence, you fools! If you provoke him here your blood be on your heads.

Gerkin. Right you air, Guvner! We'll close our dampers.

Tecumseh. My brother's ears have heard. Where is his tongue?

Harrison. My honest ears ache in default of reason. Tecumseh is reputed wise, yet now His fuming passions from his judgment fly, Like roving steeds which gallop from the catch, And kick the air, wasting in wantonness More strength than in submission. His threats fall On fearless ears. Knows he not of our force, Which in the East swarms like mosquitoes here? Our great Kentucky and Virginia fires? Our mounted men and soldier-citizens? These all have stings--let him beware of them!

Tecumseh. Who does not know your vaunting citizens! Well drilled in fraud and disciplined in crime; But in aught else--as honor, justice, truth-- A rabble, and a base disordered herd. We know them; and our nations, knit in one, Will challenge them, should this, our last appeal, Fall on unheeding ears. My brother, hearken! East of Ohio you possess our lands, Thrice greater than your needs, but west of it We claim them all; then, let us make its flood A common frontier, and a sacred stream Of which our nations both may drink in peace.

Harrison. Absurd! The treaties of Fort Wayne must stand. Your village chiefs are heads of civil rule, Whose powers you seek to centre in yourself, Or vest in warriors whose trade is blood. We bought from those, and from your peaceful men-- Your wiser brothers--who had faith in us.

Tecumseh. Poor, ruined brothers, weaned from honest lives!

Harrison. They knew our wisdom, and preferred to sell Their cabins, fields, and wilds of unused lands For rich reserves and ripe annuities. As for your nations being one like ours-- 'Tis false--else would they speak one common tongue. Nay, more! your own traditions trace you here-- Widespread in lapse of ages through the land-- From o'er the mighty ocean of the West. What better title have you than ourselves, Who came from o'er the ocean of the East, And meet with you on free and common ground? Be reasonable, and let wisdom's words Displace your passion, and give judgment vent Think more of bounty, and talk less of rights-- Our hands are full of gifts, our hearts of love.

Tecumseh. My brother's love is like the trader's warmth-- O'er with the purchase. Oh, unhappy lives-- Our gifts which go for yours! Once we were strong. Once all this mighty continent was ours, And the Great Spirit made it for our use. He knew no boundaries, so had we peace In the vast shelter of His handiwork, And, happy here, we cared not whence we came. We brought no evils thence--no treasured hate, No greed of gold, no quarrels over God; And so our broils, to narrow issues joined, Were soon composed, and touched the ground of peace. Our very ailments, rising from the earth, And not from any foul abuse in us, Drew back, and let age ripen to death's hand. Thus flowed our lives until your people came, Till from the East our matchless misery came! Since then our tale is crowded with your crimes, With broken faith, with plunder of reserves-- The sacred remnants of our wide domain-- With tamp'rings, and delirious feasts of fire, The fruit of your thrice-cursed stills of death, Which make our good men bad, our bad men worse, Aye! blind them till they grope in open day, And stumble into miserable graves. Oh, it is piteous, for none will hear! There is no hand to help, no heart to feel, No tongue to plead for us in all your land. But every hand aims death, and every heart, Ulcered with hate, resents our presence here; And every tongue cries for our children's land To expiate their crime of being born. Oh, we have ever yielded in the past, But we shall yield no more! Those plains are ours! Those forests are our birth-right and our home! Let not the Long-Knife build one cabin there-- Or fire from it will spread to every roof, To compass you, and light your souls to death!

Harrison. Dreams he of closing up our empty plains? Our mighty forests waiting for the axe? Our mountain steeps engrailed with iron and gold? There's no asylumed madness like to this! Mankind shall have its wide possession here; And these rough assets of a virgin world Stand for its coming, and await its hand. The poor of every land shall come to this, Heart-full of sorrows and shall lay them down.

Lefroy. (_Springing to his feet_.) The poor! What care your rich thieves for the poor? Those graspers hate the poor, from whom they spring, More deeply than they hate this injured race. Much have they taken from it--let them now Take this prediction, with the red man's curse! The time will come when that dread power--the Poor-- Whom, in their greed and pride of wealth, they spurn-- Will rise on them, and tear them from their seats; Drag all their vulgar splendours down, and pluck Their shallow women from their lawless beds, Yea, seize their puling and unhealthy babes, And fling them as foul pavement to the streets. In all the dreaming of the Universe There is no darker vision of despairs!

1ST OFFICER. What man is that? 'Tis not an Indian.

Harrison. Madman, you rave!--you know not what you say.

Tecumseh. Master of guile, this axe should speak for him!

[_Drawing his hatchet as if to hurl it at_ HARRISON.]

2ND OFFICER. This man means mischief! Quick! Bring up the guard!

[GENERAL HARRISON _and officers draw their swords. The warriors spring to their feet and cluster about_ TECUMSEH, _their eyes fixed intently upon_ HARRISON, _who stands unmoved._ TWANG _and his friends disappear. The soldiers rush forward and take aim, but are ordered not to fire_.]

END OF SECOND ACT.