“'Tis said thou holdest converse with the things
Which are forbidden to the search of man;
And that with evil and unheavenly spirits
Thou communest. I know that with mankind,
Thy fellows in creation, thou dost rarely
Exchange thy thoughts, and that thy solitude
Is as an anchorite's.”
BYRON.
In accordance with the resolution adopted by the brothers, as
mentioned in our last chapter, Elkswatawa suddenly appeared as a
Prophet among the Shawanees. Meek and humble in his manner, he was not
characterized by the frivolities of dress, which, among the Indians,
always distinguished those who have attempted to play similar parts,
nor was there indeed any thing about his apparel at all calculated to
render him conspicuous. A blanket thrown loosely over his shoulders,
formed his upper garment, and when removed, disclosed a frock or
kirtle, of blue cotton cloth, closely fitting his person, and
extending down nearly to his knees. From his ears were suspended large
silver medals. These were the only ornaments worn by him. His
countenance was unpainted, and, although it was the invariable custom
of his countrymen never to move without the implements of war, or
those of the chase, yet he had neither, but went forth apparently as
incapable of doing mischief as when first he came into the world.
His appearance as Prophet for a time produced no excitement, and he
was regarded only as one of the many impostors who often sprung up
among the various tribes, and assumed the character either for the
purpose of gratifying private feelings of revenge, or else for the
sake of personal aggrandisement. But not at all discouraged by the
manner in which he was received, he kept steadily in view the object
for which he had set out. Regardless of the reproaches and taunting
speeches which often met his ears, he pursued the even tenor of his
way, content to tell to every circle, however small, that he was the
chosen agent of the Great Spirit, sent to warn the red men of their
evil deeds, and beg them to do better. An example of all that was
patient and meek, he was found wandering from village to village,
preaching as long as he had a hearer, and satisfied when his task was
finished;—he then seemed to have performed his duty, and again
continued his journey, apparently careless whether his words were
heeded or not. He asked nothing at the hands of any one, and refused
to accept when any thing was offered. Conduct so singular in an
Indian, gave rise to conversation, then to surprise, and finally to
excitement. His words were now eagerly listened to, but to what they
tended, or what was their ultimate object, no human being could
foresee. He was enigmatical in his expressions, and to all his
followers, seemed shrouded in mystery. He had been playing his part
for about two months, when leaving the scene of action for a time, he
was again seen in secret conference with Tecumseh. They were now less
gloomy than when first they met, and a gleam of satisfaction already
shone in their countenances.
“Welcome, brother,” said Tecumseh. “Have the winds of night sung to
you the words of the Great Spirit, and have you put them into the ears
of the red men?”
“Yes,” said Elkswatawa; “night after night I slept in the woods, and
dreamed as no one ever dreamed before.—Seeking the red men, I begged
them to listen:—they passed me by;—they heard me not. I then told the
words of the Great Spirit to the trees,—to the streams. I sung them to
the winds, as they moved along. The red men wondered:—I left them, and
they followed me to listen.”
“And what say they?” inquired Tecumseh.
“Their hearts are troubled,” said Elkswatawa; “their ears have heard,
but their eyes cannot see; they are in the dark.”
“Then our dreams of vengeance shall yet be realized,” said Tecumseh.
“The white man shall tremble when the red men are one people. But to
make them so, keep thy words wound up; let nobody see their meaning.
When the Prophet is great, then he will tell his wishes.”
“The Prophet is wise,” said Elkswatawa. “He is a clear spring to his
brother, but he is midnight to every body else. He has already
troubled the red men, and the words of the Great Spirit shall ring in
their ears until they know no quiet. They shall say, ‘Elkswatawa is
the true Prophet, and we will do what he tells us.’ The time shall
come when this is to be;—I see it in the future. And when it does
come, I say, Tecumseh, the plains shall be covered with warriors, as
far as the eye can reach. Their tomahawks shall glitter in the sun,
and with you to lead them, they shall pass like a swelling flood over
the homes of the pale faces.”
“Oh! brother,” cried Tecumseh, “it is good,—it makes my heart glad.
Let it come true, and the lightning's flash shall be dark to the fires
which light our path, and the rolling thunder shall not be heard, when
the war-whoop rings of countless thousands. But, brother, it will take
a long time. We must work hard, and many must help us. Ah! the white
man little dreams of the storm which is gathering.”
“No, nor must he dream,” said Elkswatawa; “the tomahawk must lie hid,
and the white man must think we will never dig it up. We must preach
peace to the Indians, get power over them, and make the white man say,
‘the Prophet is good; he calms the troubled waters.’ But we want help;
we must have converts, and they must go and talk to the far tribes.”
“I am already thy convert,” said Tecumseh.
“And what did the red men do,” asked Elkswatawa, “when Tecumseh said
that there was no crook in the words of the Prophet.”
“They were surprised,” answered Tecumseh.—“It was like a blow they did
not expect; they looked at each other, and waited for some one to
speak.—I left them.”
“Thou didst well,” said Elkswatawa:—“at first be indifferent whether
they believe or not. Let it satisfy thee that thou believest; but when
once we have power, who is there that will then dare doubt? The
Prophet has only preached to small numbers. He must have a large
crowd;—he must tell them all together, what the Great Spirit will do
for them, if they follow his words.—And listen, Tecumseh, fear must
seize upon their hearts, and we must make them believe.”
“Yes,” said Tecumseh;—“the words of the Prophet must move their
hearts, as the wind stirs the leaves on the trees. Tell them who they
are;—tell them that the stranger came among us, and begged for
bread,—we gave it; he asked for a wigwam,—we made him one; he wanted
lands,—we told him to take them. Was he satisfied? Tell them to ask
the bones of their fathers! Or, point to a son, whose father's blood
was spilled by the whites! Ask, where does he sleep? Tell him the
white man's house is built over his grave! And thus speak, if you wish
to stir them to the bottom. It would be well that they should fear.
Let the place of meeting alarm them. Canst thou do it?”
Elkswatawa was for a moment silent; he pressed his hands to his head,
then suddenly smiling as if a happy thought had struck him, replied,
“I have it; hast thou forgotten the Ween-bah-sho-ke-kah?”
“What, the haunted cavern?” said Tecumseh.
“The same,” replied Elkswatawa. “Fear will seize upon their hearts as
soon they enter it. It will suit our purpose.”
“It will,” said Tecumseh, animated by the thought; “you visit it, and
prepare for the coming assembly. I will spread far and wide the
tidings that the Prophet of the Great Spirit will hold a talk with the
red men in the haunted cavern.”
“Then do so,” said Elkswatawa, “name the time of meeting the twentieth
day from this. The Indians are troubled and they will come, though
they fear. Terror shall seize upon their hearts, for none as yet have
penetrated its recesses, and they shall say, ‘Elkswatawa is the true
Prophet.’”
“I augur well,” said Tecumseh, “the cave alone will fill them with
fear; Elkswatawa knows how to make them tremble.”
“Trust me,” said Elkswatawa, “even Tecumseh himself shall tremble.
Hast thou ventured far into the Ween-bah-sho-ke-kah?”
“No; never to its end,” said Tecumseh.
“Then thou dost not know how well it suits. A word more. When we meet,
Prophets must be made. Let them travel to the farthest tribes. Think
of those best suited, and name them to me. I will clothe them with the
prophetic spirit, and they shall wander forth believing what they
preach. Say, that Prophets will be made, and more will come to the
cavern. Now, farewell, play well your part, Tecumseh, and trust to
Elkswatawa for his.” They then separated.
The brothers having adjourned, Elkswatawa again commenced his
wanderings; the words of the Great Spirit were told to every person in
whom he could find a hearer, and he now for the first time, began to
affect singularity. He mingled in none of their amusements, he was
reserved and mysterious in his manner, and when not preaching, would
wander about and commune only with his own thoughts. He was rarely if
ever seen to eat, and when he did, the most frugal fare formed his
diet. He would never sleep in a wigwam, but as night came on, wrapping
a blanket about his shoulders, would retire far into the forest, and
appear again only with the rising sun.
His doctrines had already with the Indians become a theme of general
conversation, and given rise to speculations as undefined as they were
general. His opinions were seized upon with avidity, and propagated
with impassioned zeal; and that they were to produce any other effect,
than merely to better the condition of the Indians, no human being
could foresee. Nothing could be more humble than his mode of address,
nothing more pacific than the measures he recommended. He inculcated
reform in the manner and habits of the Indians, begged them not to
imitate the examples of the whites, but to live as their fathers did
before the stranger came among them; entreated them no more to go to
war with each other, but to live united as a band of brothers; to give
up the use of ardent spirits, to which mainly their misfortunes might
be attributed, and to stop at the same time, all intercourse with the
whites. He urged them never to lie, to steal, or to quarrel with each
other; and having pressed upon them the necessity of refraining from
these things, he then depicted in glowing terms, their once proud and
happy condition, when their lands lay spread out so far around them,
that no one knew their boundary; when their plains were covered with
deer and buffalo, and their streams were filled with the otter and
beaver, when peace and plenty were abroad in the land; and when
gathering under their own shady trees, without a care for the morrow,
they would teach their children to dance on the green, to throw the
tomahawk, or draw the bow. He contrasted this with their present
situation, and attributed the change to their doing those things which
he now commanded them not to do; then declared to them, that he was
the agent of the Great Spirit, who had revealed to him his will, and
sent him to warn them of their evil deeds, to unite them as a band of
brothers, and reinstate them in their former happy possessions.
These doctrines had been reiterated for some time by the Prophet,
principally to individuals of his own tribe, and to the few, who
having heard of the Prophet, came from a distance to look upon the
agent of the Great Spirit. But as yet he had addressed individuals
only, or small groups whom accident had brought together; he had never
spoken to a large crowd. Thus was he situated when, apparently without
any design of his own, messengers were found going in every direction,
to noise abroad his existence as a Prophet, and invite the red men to
hear him preach and expound the doctrines of the Great Spirit. Rumour,
no one knew whence it came, already attributed to him miracles without
number, and sketched his appearance in such singular characters, that
anxiety now sat on every face, and all were on tiptoe with curiosity
to see him; so that when the time and place were appointed for a
general exposition of his doctrines, and when also it was told that he
was about to parcel out among some of his immediate followers portions
of the holy and prophetic spirit which animated himself, crowds of
persons, with agitated and restless countenances, were seen hurrying
on in every direction to the “Haunted Cavern.”
This cave, which was then well known as the “Haunted Cavern,” and now
equally well known by a different appellation, lies within the bosom
of a range of hills, situated within the limits of the State of
Indiana. On the evening preceding the day on which the Prophet was to
preach, might be seen near their southern extremity, and at the base
of a hill, which, shooting up several hundred feet, stretched away
until it was lost to the view, hundreds of red men, with their wives
and children, gathered in groups, in the beautiful grove which lay
spread out far around them. They were engaged in various discussions,
and, altogether, manifested more excitement and animation than ever
before was known to pervade an Indian camp. Within this hill, was the
“Haunted Cavern,” the place of rendezvous. Roving bands were still
occasionally coming up, although the night was now somewhat advanced;
and morning was to witness an exposition of the doctrines of the
Shawanee Prophet.
The night wore on;—large vessels were simmering over the Indian fires,
containing the suppers of the late gathered crowd, and a more quiet
aspect seemed settling over the camp, when the blast of a horn rang
through the forest. Its echo died away, a breathless silence reigned,
and a voice breaking upon the stillness of the scene, was heard
proclaiming, “the Prophet's throne is in the bosom of the hill;—when
morning comes, let the red men seek it, and hear his words:—it is the
Prophet's will.”
The voice was hushed:—a low murmuring sound, like the suppressed
whispers of a multitude, was heard for a time to pervade the
camp;—silence then resumed her sway, and nought more was heard until
morning came. At the very first dawn, a dusky line of Indians might be
seen in single file, ascending the hill, a distance of about two
hundred feet, to a point, where were posted two warriors, gaudily
painted, and armed with heavy war-clubs. Here halting but for a
moment, they disappeared, by descending through a high arched
door-way, far down into the hill up which they had been climbing. The
procession lasted for about an hour;—the last of its members had just
entered the hill, when the horn again sounded, and the warriors who
had been standing guard, leaving their post, followed on, bringing up
the rear of the crowd which had entered. It was morning, yet it
availed not;—the light of day had never penetrated the dark recess of
that cavern;—no lost sunbeam had ever struggled through a nearly
closed fissure, to make glad with its presence that dim abode;—yet
there it had existed for ages, wrapt in its own gloomy obscurity, and
untenanted, save by nature, which had converted it into a chemical
laboratory, and there silently and incessantly, time out of mind, had
been engaged for its own wise purposes, in excavating spacious
caverns,—forming an infinite variety of stalactites,—creating wreaths
and festoons, by the process of crystallization,—erecting pillars,
fluted and adorned with the most beautiful incrustations,—and
embellishing every part of the immense area with the richest
frost-work. Descending through the fissure which conducts you into the
hill, you tread a gallery varying in its elevation and width for a
mile and a half, and throughout its whole extent, decorated with
crystallizations, cast in every shape, and of every hue. You are then
introduced into a suit of spacious halls, arched over some thirty or
forty feet above you, and supported by huge fluted columns of satin
spar. How tame and common are the most splendid palaces, with all
their decorations of art, when compared with these secret dwelling
places of nature. How tasteless are the most exquisite specimens of
architecture, when compared with the rude gothic grandeur of these
huge subterranean abodes.
Within the largest hall, arose the throne of the Prophet. This
consisted of a scaffold, elevated some few feet, and covered over with
skins;—from which also hung a rich drapery of the same material,
reaching to the floor, and effectually concealing every operation
which was going on within. From this throne, was the prophet to make
his appearance,—here promulgate the wishes of the Great Spirit,—here
tell of the numerous times he had condescended to visit him,—here
divide among his chosen followers portions of his own holy nature.
Gathering close together, in small circles, in various parts of the
hall, the Indians sat;—anxiety was strongly marked in their
countenances,—many gazed wildly about, and some trembled, as though
they were suffering with fear. A single taper burned in that dark
abode, serving only to indicate the situation of the Prophet's throne,
and leaving shadowy and undefined, the spacious hall in which they
were assembled. Silence reigned, only interrupted by a suppressed
sigh, or a single whisper, when an owl was heard to complain to the
bare walls. It ceased, and Tecumseh rising, lighted a match, and set
fire to several large piles of wood, which had been prepared for the
purpose. The fire rapidly caught, and as its flames burst forth, a
scene presented itself, of which language can convey no adequate idea.
A thousand suns would not have created a more dazzling light than did
those fires, when reflected and refracted at every possible angle,
from the myriads of crystals which studded the walls. They gave life
to that which was before gloomy and obscure,—presented a scene as
brilliant as though every crystal were a diamond, and called into play
imaginations which required but little exertion to form and fashion
into perfect models of huge and uncouth animals, the many wild
assemblages of spar and stalactites which hung above them.
While the Indians, wild with astonishment, were gazing on the scene
which had just burst forth, a low rumbling noise was heard,—the skins,
which hung from the throne, were pushed aside, and a very singular
figure made its appearance. An involuntary start was the effect of
their first beholding it. It was, however, a man, and a tool of the
Prophet. He was clad in one or more bearskins, selected on account of
their being very black, and thrown over him so loosely as to enable
him to assume any attitude or shape, whether it was that of the animal
he personated, or of a man, which he less resembled. His face was
enclosed in a bear's head, which seemed grinning with all its native
ferocity, and exhibiting its long, white, keen tusks; while its eyes
were somewhat enlarged, and surrounded by a deep red fiery belt,
creating a savage horror. Where the animal's tail should have been,
protruded one of enormous bulk, terminating in a large black snake,
which had been so well stuffed and preserved, that as this object
whisked about, the snake had all the appearance of life. This man had
been chosen, and thus equipped by Elkswatawa, for the purpose of
guarding his sacred person, together with several other small
articles, which he denominated portions of the flesh of the Great
Spirit, and which he stated, were given him that his chosen followers
might touch them, and thereby imbibe the prophetic spirit. Having made
his appearance, he circled the throne several times on the outer edge
of the scaffolding, howled, and disappeared.
A warrior, then, a chosen friend of the Prophet, stepped from the
crowd, and began howling a dismal song, in a low grumbling voice, and
at the same time to move in a slow trot around the throne. The
multitude now rose, and joining in the song, followed on in the dance
until they had circled it three times, when the Prophet rose, and
stood erect upon the highest pinnacle of his throne. The song was now
more loud and animated,—the multitude moved with greater activity, and
nothing could be more impressive than the reverberation of their
voices afar off, in the hollow windings of that huge cavern.
At a given signal, all was hushed, and the Prophet stood erect, with
his bare arms stretched towards heaven. His attitude was one of
prayer, and his countenance was singularly expressive. His hair,
simply parted over his forehead, was drawn tightly back, and fastened;
falling thence unconfined, in straight lines, far below his shoulders,
and serving from its deep black, to impart to his face a redder tinge
than it was wont to wear. His dress was plain, and he wore no
ornaments save the rings which were ever suspended from his ears;—but
as he moved his arms about, a couchant tiger, beautifully tattooed,
and representing the totem of his tribe, was seen to move with every
action of his muscles. The humility of manner which marked his first
announcement as a Prophet, had now left him, and with a calm and
composed look, he gazed for several minutes around him, when he thus
spoke:—
“Brothers,” begun the Prophet in a soft, low tone of voice, which
gradually increased, until like the rushing noise of a swollen
torrent, it was heard forcing its way through every winding of that
spacious cavern. “Listen. It is the voice of the Great Spirit who
speaks to you in the words of his Prophet. He lives in the winds, he
rides on the tree tops, he walks on the rivers, he stands on the
mountains. From all he has cried unto me and said, ‘Elkswatawa, go and
talk to the red men.’ Tell them of their evil deeds, warn them of
their danger and beg them to do better. Elkswatawa was sleeping in his
wigwam, when the spirit first came. It said ‘Elkswatawa, awake, awake,
go unto the red men and preach the word.’ It told me that the red men
had evil ways, that their sufferings were very great, that their
hunting grounds were going away far from them, and soon they would
have no homes to rest in, no game whereon to feed. It told me that the
bones of your fathers were now lying upturned on the fields of the
stranger, who once came to you hungry and you gave him food! who came
to you naked, and you clothed him in skins—and saying this,” continued
Elkswatawa, “the heart of the Great Spirit was sorry, and he said, ‘I
made these hunting grounds for my red children, but on account of
their evil deeds the white man has taken them away.’”
And here the animal which was concealed within gnashed his tusks and
ran howling around the stage on which the throne was erected.
“But,” resumed the Prophet, “while the Great Spirit was sorry for his
red children, he told me how to relieve their sufferings, and make
them happy as they were before the white man came from beyond the wide
waters,—make them happy as our fathers were, when nobody could say
‘this belongs to me, that belongs to you;’ but when the fruits which
grew belonged to him who gathered them, and the red man built his
wigwam wherever he wished it.
“Brothers, listen! give me your ears while I put his words into them.
He is sorry for his red children, and wants to see them happy. He says
they must not lie, they must not steal, they must not go to war with
each other, nor with the white man—that the white man was bad to his
red brothers, and that they ought to go away and leave him—that they
ought not to trade with him, nor associate with him, nor follow his
example, but above all not to drink his whiskey—that it was poisonous
to the red man, and made him give away his lands—that what was good
for the white man was not good for the red—that they were two people,
and ought to live each after their own ways. The Spirit told me to
talk to you, to tie you together, until you were all like brothers—to
tell you that though you had different tongues, yet you were one
people—to tell you that what was good for one was good for another,
that you should think alike, and feel alike, until a wrong done one
was felt by all.
“Brothers, listen! I have now spoken to you the words of the Great
Spirit; I ask you are they good? Does he ask of you a sacrifice? No.
He promises all you wish. Obey his words as the Prophet has spoken,
and your lands shall be given back to you, so vast, that the sun shall
never go down upon them—and they shall be covered with deer and
buffalo and elk, as many in number as the leaves on the trees. The
tomahawk shall be buried, and peace like a large bird shall spread his
wings over the land—the white men shall go over the waters, and the
red men shall again be masters of the country. But, disobey him,
continue in your evil ways, and the Great Spirit will sweep you away,
and your hunting grounds will be given to the pale face.
“The Prophet has finished, you have heard the words of the Great
Spirit, and they stand as firm as the sun in the Heavens.”
He then ceased speaking, and was silent:—the multitude seemed struck
with awe and astonishment at the exposition of his doctrines; they
were so plain, they were so easily followed, they required no
sacrifice, yet promised so much. Each looked at the other and
whispered, until the Prophet again rose; then all were silent, when in
substance he stated “that in obedience to the will of the Great
Spirit, he would now empower some of his chosen servants to aid him in
preaching the word, that setting out in different directions, they
might spread far and wide the words of the Great Spirit, turn the red
men from their evil deeds and give them peace and plenty.”
He then called over a list of the chosen, about a dozen in number,
each one being conspicuous in the circle to which he belonged. They
approached the throne, and fell prostrate before the Prophet. After a
few moments he ordered them to rise, detailed to them the course that
each must pursue, the doctrines they must preach, the holy errand upon
which they were about to set out, and the great good which was to
result from their labours. He adverted to the many privileges to which
they were entitled as agents of the Great Spirit, and dwelt upon the
evil consequences to which those would be exposed who treated them
amiss. Having given a detail of their various duties, enjoined upon
them the mode of life they were to follow, and the habits they were to
adopt; he ordered them to approach nearer, that they might touch the
flesh of the Great Spirit in token of their acceptance of the holy
mission. They obeyed, and foremost among the applicants for holy
orders now stood Tecumseh. They having approached sufficiently near,
the Prophet stepped from his throne, seized a broach which had been
lying at his feet, and began to wind up the thread which had been
drawn off. At this moment several of the immediate followers of the
Prophet, were seen to slip unobserved from the crowd and disappear in
the cavern, each one carrying a coal of fire. The Prophet continued
winding the broach and seemed as if searching for the end of the
thread. A few moments sufficed to show that it had found its way among
the skins where the singular figure before described was now reposing,
yet the Prophet continued to wind, and as the thread came more slowly
and was pulled with some difficulty, the animal within, for so I must
designate it, became noisy and restless, making the cavern re-echo
with the most hideous yells, and contorting and twisting himself into
various shapes, and lashing the staging with that part of his body
which terminated in a snake. A moment more and out it burst, screaming
and yelling, and rolling around the throne, with eyes like coals of
living fire—at the same time was drawn out the end of the string, and
to it was attached a motley mass of mouldy beans, lizards tongues, and
birds' livers. At their appearance the Prophet trembled from head to
foot, and knelt in the humblest attitude of prayer, while at the same
time, the most vivid coruscations of lightning were seen to burst
forth from various parts of the cavern, accompanied by a dull heavy
sound, so violent as to bring from the walls a shower of small
crystals, broken loose by the violence of the concussion. With a
tremulous hand, and scarcely articulate voice, the Prophet seized the
string, and bade his chosen band touch the flesh of the Great Spirit.
“This was given me,” said he, “that you might touch it, and thereby
receive the Holy Spirit:—take it and draw it through your hands, and
you are Prophets, and the bond of union is irrevocable between you and
the Great Spirit.” Then passing it to them, each one did as he
desired.
While they were doing this, the sides of the vast cavern looked like
burnished silver, so thickly were the walls studded with crystals, and
so incessant was the lightning's flash. Every object was now
visible;—the dull heavy sound was still heard reverberating in the
windings of the cavern;—the animal still howled and rolled itself, as
if in an agony of suffering; and the crystals fell like falling
snow,—when the Prophet said, “Quick, quick, the flesh of the Great
Spirit must not longer be exposed, or some misfortune will befall us,”
and clutching it from the disciple who had last drawn it through his
hands, he placed it, with the broach, beneath the skins. The animal
ceased howling, and returned to its cover,—the lightning, with its
accompanying dull noise, died away,—the crystals ceased falling, and
all was silence.
The converts were now ordered to kneel, and the Prophet having again
commanded them to wander far and wide, and preach the word;—and having
in a brief manner recapitulated his doctrines, and given them his
parting benediction, they, with the crowd, were dismissed.
He then descended from his throne; began to mingle familiarly with
all,—to narrate his dreams,—to sketch visions of future happiness,—and
dwell upon the necessity of obeying his injunctions.
The newly made Prophets pursued the same plan, and for some time there
was a general interchange of opinions, when the crowd, well satisfied
with the exposition they had seen, left the cave and returned to their
wigwams.