Tecumseh : a Drama

SCENE FIRST.--VINCENNES.--A COUNCIL CHAMBER IN GENERAL HARRISON'S HOUSE.

_Enter_ HARRISON _and five_ COUNCILLORS.

Harrison. Here are despatches from the President, As well as letters from my trusted friends, Whose tenor made me summon you to Council.

[_Placing papers on table_.]

1ST COUNCILLOR. Why break good news so gently? Is it true War is declared 'gainst England?

Harrison. Would it were! That war is still deferred. Our news is draff, And void of spirit, since New England turns A fresh cheek to the slap of Britain's palm. Great God! I am amazed at such supineness. Our trade prohibited, our men impressed, Our flag insulted--still her people bend, Amidst the ticking of their wooden clocks, Bemused o'er small inventions. Out upon't! Such tame submission yokes not with my spirit, And sends my southern blood into my cheeks, As proxy for New England's sense of shame.

2ND COUNCILLOR. We all see, save New England, what to do; But she has eyes for her one interest-- A war might sink it. So the way to war Puzzles imagining.

Harrison. There is a way Which lies athwart the President's command. The reinforcements asked for from Monroe Are here at last, but with this strict injunction, They must not be employed save in defence, Or in a forced attack.

[_Taking up a letter_.]

Now, here is news, Fresh from the South, of bold Tecumseh's work, The Creeks and Seminoles have conjoined, Which means a general union of the tribes, And ravage of our Southern settlements. Tecumseh's master hand is seen in this, And these fresh tidings tally with his threats Before he left Vincennes.

3RD COUNCILLOR. You had a close Encounter with him here.

Harrison. Not over close, Nor dangerous--I saw he would not strike. His thoughts outran his threats, and looked beyond To wider fields and trials of our strength.

4TH COUNCILLOR. Our tree is now too bulky for his axe.

Harrison. Don't underrate his power! But for our States This man would found an empire to surpass Old Mexico's renown, or rich Peru. Allied with England, he is to be feared More than all other men.

1ST COUNCILLOR. You had some talk In private, ere he vanished to the South?

Harrison. Mere words, yet ominous. Could we restore Our purchases, and make a treaty line, All might be well; but who would stand to it?

2ND COUNCILLOR. It is not to be thought of.

OTHER COUNCILLORS. No, no, no.

Harrison. In further parley at the river's edge, Scenting a coming war, he clapped his hands, And said the English whooped his people on, As if his braves were hounds to spring at us; Compared our nation to a whelming flood, And called his scheme a dam to keep it back-- Then proffered the old terms; whereat I urged A peaceful mission to the President. But, by apt questions, gleaning my opinion, Ere I was ware, of such a bootless trip, He drew his manly figure up, then smiled, And said our President might drink his wine In safety in his distant town, whilst we-- Over the mountains here--should fight it out: Then entering his bark, well-manned with braves, Bade me let matters rest till he returned From his far mission to the distant tribes, Waved an adieu, and, in a trice, was gone.

2ND COUNCILLOR. Your news is but an earnest of his work.

4TH COUNCILLOR. This Chief's dispatch should be our own example. Let matters rest, forsooth, till he can set Our frontier in a blaze! Such cheap advice Pulls with the President's, not mine.

Harrison. Nor mine! The sum of my advice is to attack The Prophet ere Tecumseh can return.

5TH COUNCILLOR. But what about the breach of your instructions?

Harrison. If we succeed we need not fear the breach-- In the same space we give and heal the wound.

[_Enter a Messenger, who hands letters to_ HARRISON.]

Thank you, Missouri and good Illinois-- Your governors are built of western clay. Howard and Edwards both incline with me, And urge attack upon the Prophet's force. This is the nucleus of Tecumseh's strength-- His bold scheme's very heart. Let's cut it out. Yes! yes! and every other part will fail.

1ST COUNCILLOR. Let us prepare to go at once!

2ND COUNCILLOR. Agreed.

3RD COUNCILLOR. I vote for war.

5TH COUNCILLOR. But should the Prophet win?

4TH COUNCILLOR. Why then, the Prophet, not Tecumseh, kills us-- Which has the keener axe?

1ST COUNCILLOR. Breech-clouted dogs! Let us attack them, and, with thongs of fire, Whip their red bodies to a deeper red.

Harrison. This feeling bodes success, and with success Comes war with England; for a well-won fight Will rouse a martial spirit in the land To emulate our deeds on higher ground. Now hasten to your duties and prepare: Bronzed autumn comes, when copper-colored oaks Drop miserly their stiff leaves to the earth; And ere the winter's snow doth silver them, Our triumph must be wrought.

[_Exeunt_.]

SCENE SECOND.--TECUMSEH'S CABIN IN THE PROPHET'S TOWN.

[_Enter_ IENA _and_ MAMATEE, _agitated_.]

Iena. My heart is sad, and I am faint with fear. My friend, my more than mother, go again-- Plead with the Prophet for a single day! Perchance within his gloomy heart will stir Some sudden pulse of pity for a girl.

Mamatee. Alas, my Iena, it is in vain! He swore by Manitou this very morn, That thou should'st wed the chief, Tarhay, to-night.

Iena. Nay try once more, Oh Mamatee, once more! I had a dream, and heard the gusty breeze Hurtle from out a sea of hissing pines, Then dwindle into voices, faint and sweet, Which cried--we come! It was my love and yours! They spoke to me--I know that they are near, And waft their love to us upon the wind.

Mamatee. Some dreams are merely fancies in our sleep: I'll make another trial, but I feel Your only safety is in instant flight.

Iena. Flight! Where and how--beset by enemies? My fear sits like the partridge in the tree, And cannot fly whilst these dogs bark at me.

SCENE THIRD.--AN ELEVATED PLATEAU, DOTTED WITH HEAVY OAKS, WEST OF THE PROPHET'S TOWN.

_Enter three of_ HARRISON'S _staff Officers_.

1ST OFFICER. Well, here's the end of all our northward marching!

2ND OFFICER. A peaceful end, if we can trust those chiefs Who parleyed with us lately.

3RD OFFICER. Yes, for if They mean to fight, why point us to a spot At once so strong and pleasant for our camp?

1ST OFFICER. Report it so unto our General!

[_Exit_ 3RD OFFICER.]

'Tis worth our long march through the forest wild To view these silent plains! The Prophet's Town, Sequestered yonder like a hermitage, Disturbs not either's vast of solitude, But rather gives, like graveyard visitors, To deepest loneliness a deeper awe.

[_Re enter_ 3RD OFFICER.]

3RD OFFICER. I need not go, for Harrison is here.

[_Enter_ GENERAL HARRISON, _his force following_.]

1ST OFFICER. Methinks you like the place; some thanks we owe Unto the Prophet's chiefs for good advice.

Harrison. (_Looking around keenly_). These noble oaks, the streamlet to our rear, This rank wild grass--wood, water and soft beds! The soldier's luxuries are here together.

1ST OFFICER. Note, too, the place o'erlooks the springy plain Which lies betwixt us and the Prophet's Town. I think, sir, 'tis a very fitting place.

Harrison. A fitting place if white men were our foes; But to the red it gives a clear advantage. Sleep like the weasel here, if you are wise!

1ST OFFICER. Why, sir, their chiefs, so menacing at first, Became quite friendly at the last. They fear A battle, and will treat on any terms. The Prophet's tide of strength will ebb away, And leave his stranded bark upon the mire.

Harrison. 'Tis the mixed craft of old dissembling Nature! If I could look upon her smallest web, And see in it but crossed and harmless hairs, Then might I trust the Prophet's knotted seine. I did not like the manner of those chiefs Who spoke so fairly. What but highest greatness Plucks hatred from its seat, and in its stead Plants friendship in an instant? This our camp Is badly placed; each coulee and ravine Is dangerous cover for approach by night; And all the circuit of the spongy plain A treacherous bog to mire our cavalry. They who directed us so warmly here Had other than our comfort in their eye.

2ND OFFICER. Fear you a night-attack, sir?

Harrison. Fear it! No! I but anticipate, and shall prepare. 'Tis sunset, and too late for better choice, Else were the Prophet welcome to his ground. Pitch tents and draw our baggage to the centre; Girdle the camp with lynx-eyed sentinels; Detail strong guards of choice and wakeful men As pickets in advance of all oar lines; Place mounted riflemen on both our flanks; Our cavalry take post in front and rear, But still within the lines of infantry, Which, struck at any point, must hold the ground Until relieved. Cover your rifle pans-- The thick clouds threaten rain. I look to you To fill these simple orders to the letter. But stay! Let all our camp fires burn Till, if attacked, we form--then drown them out. The darkness falls--make disposition straight; Then, all who can, to sleep upon their arms. I fear me, ere night yields to morning pale, The warriors' yell will sound our wild reveille.

SCENE FOURTH.--TECUMSEH'S CABIN.

_Enter_ IENA.

Iena. Tis night, and Mamatee is absent still! Why should this sorrow weigh upon my heart, And other lonely things on earth have rest? Oh, could I be with them! The lily shone All day upon the stream, and now it sleeps Under the wave in peace--in cradle soft Which sorrow soon may fashion for my grave. Ye shadows which do creep into my thoughts-- Ye curtains of despair! what is my fault, That ye should hide the happy earth from me? Once I had joy of it, when tender Spring, Mother of beauty, hid me in her leaves; When Summer led me by the shores of song, And forests and far-sounding cataracts Melted my soul with music. I have heard The rough chill harpings of dismantled woods, When Fall had stripped them, and have felt a joy Deeper than ear could lend unto the heart; And when the Winter from his mountains wild Looked down on death, and, in the frosty sky, The very stars seemed hung with icicles, Then came a sense of beauty calm and cold, That weaned me from myself, yet knit me still With kindred bonds to Nature. All is past, And he--who won from me such love for him, And he--my valiant uncle and my friend, Comes not to lift the cloud that drapes my soul, And shield me from the fiendish Prophet's power.

[_Enter_ MAMATEE.]

Give me his answer in his very words!

Mamatee. There is a black storm raging in his mind-- His eye darts lightning like the angry cloud Which hangs in woven darkness o'er the earth. Brief is his answer--you must go to him. The Long-Knife's camp fires gleam among the oaks Which dot yon western hill. A thousand men Are sleeping there cajoled to fatal dreams By promises the Prophet breaks to-night. Hark! 'tis the war-song.

Iena. Dares the Prophet now Betray Tecumseh's trust, and break his faith?

Mamatee. He dares do anything will feed ambition. His dancing braves are frenzied by his tongue, Which prophesies revenge and victory. Before the break of day he will surprise The Long-Knife's camp, and hang our people's fate Upon a single onset.

Iena. Should he fail?

Mamatee. Then all will fail;--Tecumseh's scheme will fail.

Iena. It shall not! Let us go to him at once!

Mamatee. And risk your life?

Iena. Risk hovers everywhere When night and man combine for darksome deeds. I'll go to him, and argue on my knees-- Yea, yield my hand--would I could give my heart! To stay his purpose and this act of ruin.

Mamatee. He is not in the mood for argument Rash girl! they die who would oppose him now.

Iena. Such death were sweet as life--I go! But, first--Great Spirit! I commit my soul to Thee.

[_Kneels_.]

SCENE FIFTH.--AN OPEN SPACE IN THE FOREST NEAR THE PROPHET'S TOWN. A FIRE OF BILLETS BURNING. WAR CRIES ARE HEARD FROM THE TOWN.

_Enter the_ PROPHET.

Prophet. My spells do work apace! Shout yourselves hoarse, Ye howling ministers by whom I climb! For this I've wrought until my weary tongue, Blistered with incantation, flags in speech, And half declines its office. Every brave Inflamed by charms and oracles, is now A vengeful serpent, who will glide ere morn To sting the Long-Knife's sleeping camp to death. Why should I hesitate? My promises! My duty to Tecumseh! What are these Compared with duty here? Where I perceive A near advantage, there my duty lies; Consideration strong which overweighs All other reason. Here is Harrison-- Trepanned to dangerous lodgment for the night-- Each deep ravine which grooves the prairie's breast A channel of approach; each winding creek A screen for creeping death. Revenge is sick To think of such advantage flung aside. For what? To let Tecumseh's greatness grow, Who gathers his rich harvest of renown Out of the very fields that I have sown! By Manitou, I will endure no more! Nor, in the rising flood of our affairs, Fish like an osprey for this eagle longer.

But, soft!

It is the midnight hour when comes Tarhay to claim his bride, (_calls_) Tarhay! Tarhay!

[_Enter_ TARHAY _with several braves_.]

Tarhay. Tarhay is here!

Prophet. The Long-Knives die to-night. The spirits which do minister to me Have breathed this utterance within my ear. You know my sacred office cuts me off From the immediate leadership in fight. My nobler work is in the spirit-world, And thence come promises which make us strong. Near to the foe I'll keep the Magic Bowl, Whilst you, Tarhay, shall lead our warriors on.

Tarhay. I'll lead them; they are wild with eagerness. But fill my cold and empty cabin first With light and heat! You know I love your niece, And have the promise of her hand to-night.

Prophet. She shall be yours!

(_To the braves_)

Go bring her here at once--But, look! Fulfilment of my promise comes In her own person.

_Enter_ IENA _and_ MAMATEE.

Welcome, my sweet niece! You have forestalled my message by these braves, And come unbidden to your wedding place.

Iena. Uncle! you know my heart is far away--

Prophet. But still your hand is here! this little hand! (_Pulling her forward_)

Iena. Dare you enforce a weak and helpless girl, Who thought to move you by her misery? Stand back! I have a message for you too. What means the war-like song, the dance of braves, And bustle in our town?

Prophet. It means that we Attack the foe to-night.

Iena. And risk our all? O that Tecumseh knew! his soul would rush In arms to intercept you. What! break faith, And on the hazard of a doubtful strife, Stake his great enterprise and all our lives! The dying curses of a ruined race Will wither up your wicked heart for this!

Prophet. False girl! your heart is with our foes; Your hand I mean to turn to better use.

Iena. Oh, could it turn you from your mad intent How freely would I give it! Drop this scheme, Dismiss your frenzied warriors to their beds; And, if contented with my hand, Tarhay Can have it here.

Tarhay. I love you, Iena!

Iena. Then must you love what I do! Love our race! 'Tis this love nerves Tecumseh to unite Its scattered tribes--his fruit of noble toil, Which you would snatch unripened from his hand, And feed to sour ambition. Touch it not-- Oh, touch it not Tarhay! and though my heart Breaks for it, I am yours.

Prophet. His anyway, Or I am not the Prophet!

Tarhay. For my part I have no leaning to this rash attempt, Since Iena consents to be my wife.

Prophet. Shall I be thwarted by a yearning fool!

_(Aside.)_

This soft, sleek girl, to outward seeming good, I know to be a very fiend beneath-- Whose sly affections centre on herself, And feed the gliding snake within her heart.

Tarhay. I cannot think her so--

Mamatee. She is not so! There is the snake that creeps among our race; Whose venomed fangs would bite into our lives, And poison all our hopes.

Prophet. She is the head-- The very neck of danger to me here, Which I must break at once! (_aside_) Tarhay--attend! I can see dreadful visions in the air; I can dream awful dreams of life and fate; I can bring darkness on the heavy earth; I can fetch shadows from our fathers' graves, And spectres from the sepulchres of hell Who dares dispute with me, disputes with death! Dost hear, Tarhay?

[TARHAY and braves cower before the PROPHET.]

Tarhay. I hear, and will obey. Spare me! Spare me!

Prophet. As for this foolish girl, The hand she offers you on one condition, I give to you upon a better one;

And, since she has no mind to give her heart Which, rest assured, is in her body stity There,--take it at my hands!

_Flings_ IENA _violently toward_ TARHAY, _into whose arms she falls fainting, and is then borne away by_ MAMATEE.

(_To_ TARHAY.) Go bring the braves to view the Mystic Torch And belt of Sacred Beans grown from my flesh One touch of it makes them invulnerable Then creep, like stealthy panthers, on the foe!

SCENE SIXTH.--MORNING. THE FIELD OF TIPPECANOE AFTER THE BATTLE. THE GROUND STREWN WITH DEAD SOLDIERS AND WARRIORS.

_Enter_ HARRISON, _officers and soldiers and_ BARRON.

Harrison. A costly triumph reckoned by our slain! Look how some lie still clenched with savages In all-embracing death, their bloody hands Glued in each other's hair! Make burial straight Of all alike in deep and common graves: Their quarrel now is ended.

1ST OFFICER. I have heard. The red man fears our steel--'twas not so here; From the first shots, which drove our pickets in, Till daylight dawned they rushed upon our lines, And flung themselves upon our bayonet points In frenzied recklessness of bravery.

Barron. They trusted in the Prophet's rites and spells, Which promised them immunity from death. All night he sat on yon safe eminence, Howling his songs of war and mystery, Then fled, at dawn, in fear of his own braves.

[_Enter an AIDE_]

Harrison. What tidings bring you from the Prophet's Town?

AIDE. The wretched women with their children fly To distant forests for concealment. In Their village is no living thing save mice Which scampered as we oped each cabin door. Their pots still simmered on the vacant hearths, Standing in dusty silence and desertion. Naught else we saw, save that their granaries Were crammed with needful corn.

Harrison. Go bring it all-- Then burn their village down!

[_Exit_ AIDE.]

2ND OFFICER. This victory Will shake Tecumseh's project to the base Were I the Prophet I should drown myself Rather than meet him.

Barron. We have news of him-- Our scouts report him near in heavy force.

Harrison. 'Twill melt or draw across the British line, And wait for war. But double the night watch, Lest he should strike, and give an instant care To all our wounded men: to-morrow's sun Must light us on our backward march for home Thence Rumour's tongue will spread so proud a story New England will grow envious of our glory; And, greedy for renown so long abhorred, Will on old England draw the tardy sword!

SCENE SEVENTH.--THE RUINS OF THE PROPHET'S TOWN.

[_Enter the_ PROPHET, _who gloomily surveys the place_.]

Prophet. Our people scattered, and our town in ashes! To think these hands could work such madness here-- This envious head devise this misery! Tecumseh, had not my ambition drawn Such sharp and fell destruction on our race You might have smiled at me! for I have matched My cunning 'gainst your wisdom, and have dragged Myself and all into a sea of ruin.

[_Enter_ TECUMSEH.]

Tecumseh. Devil! I have discovered you at last! You sum of treacheries, whose wolfish fangs Have torn our people's flesh--you shall not live!

[_The_ PROPHET _retreats facing and followed by_ TECUMSEH.]

Prophet. Nay--strike me not! I can explain it all! It was a woman touched the Magic Bowl, And broke the brooding spell.

Tecumseh. Impostor! Slave! Why should I spare you?

[_Lifts his hand as if to strike._]

Prophet. Stay, stay, touch me not! One mother bore us in the self-same hour.

Tecumseh. Then good and evil came to light together. Go to the corn-dance, change your name to villain! Away! Your presence tempts my soul to mischief.

[_Exit the_ PROPHET _hastily_.]

Would that I were a woman, and could weep, And slake hot rage with tears! O spiteful fortune, To lure me to the limit of my dreams, Then turn and crowd the ruin of my toil Into the narrow compass of a night. My brother's deep disgrace--myself the scorn Of envious harriers and thieves of fame, Who fain would rob me of the lawful meed Of faithful services and duties done-- Oh, I could bear it all! But to behold Our ruined people hunted to their graves-- To see the Long-Knife triumph in their shame-- This is the burning shaft, the poisoned wound That rankles in my soul! But, why despair? All is not lost--the English are our friends. My spirit rises--manhood bear me up! I'll haste to Malden, join my force to theirs, And fall with double fury on our foes. Farewell ye plains and forests, but rejoice! Ye yet shall echo to Tecumseh's voice.

[_Enter_ LEFROY.]

Lefroy. What tidings have you gleaned of Iena?

Tecumseh. My brother meant to wed her to Tarhay-- The chief who led his warriors to ruin; But, in the gloom and tumult of the night, She fled into the forest all alone.

Lefroy. Alone! In the wide forest all alone! Angels are with her now, for she is dead.

Tecumseh. You know her to be skilful with the bow. 'Tis certain she would strike for some great Lake-- Erie or Michigan. At the Detroit Are people of our nation, and perchance She fled for shelter there. I go at once To join the British force.

[_Exit_ TECUMSEH.]

Lefroy. But yesterday I climbed to Heaven upon the shining stairs Of love and hope, and here am quite cast down. My little flower amidst a weedy world, Where art thou now? In deepest forest shade? Or onward, where the sumach stands arrayed In Autumn splendour, its alluring form Fruited, yet odious with the hidden worm? Or, farther, by some still sequestered lake, Loon-haunted, where the sinewy panthers slake Their noon-day thirst, and never voice is heard Joyous of singing waters, breeze or bird, Save their wild waitings.--(_A halloo without_) 'Tis Tecumseh calls! Oh Iena! If dead, where'er thou art-- Thy saddest grave will be this ruined heart! [_Exit_.]

END OF THIRD ACT.