fancied wrongs to the members of his own race and meditated upon
some method of keeping the white settlers away from the lands of his
forefathers. His brother, Elsk-wata-wa, assumed the name and functions
of a prophet and reformer among the red men, established headquarters
at Greenville, and told them that he had received a divine inspiration
to go among them and save them from extinction. Calling himself
Tensk-wata-wa, or "The Open Door," he asserted that the Great Spirit
had selected him as a means of deliverance to his people. Tecumseh
approved of this--his brother's course--and did all within his power
to aid him in knitting together the savages into a well-organized
clan. A large band of the Shawnees, Wyandots, Pottawattamies, Ottawas,
Chippewas, and Kickapoos soon gathered around the Prophet, who told
them that the Great Spirit, who had made the red men, was not the same
as he who had produced the white men, and that all the misfortunes
among their race were due to the fact that they had tried to imitate
the manners of the whites. He counselled them to form a great
Confederation, to live righteous lives, and to prepare themselves by
drill and practice in shooting, so that, when the time came, they could
show a bold front to the Americans. The Indians were seized with a
great religious fever, and, burning with anger at the wrongs which they
considered that the whites had heaped upon their race, were soon in a
condition of mind which needed very little to flame into the passion of
war.
The Commissioner from the United States to the Ohio country, and
the Governor of this territory, was General Harrison, a man of cool
judgment and excellent military genius. His headquarters were at Fort
Wayne, in the present state of Indiana, although he had a frontier
post at Vincennes. His border troops were not equal in numbers to the
great body of redskins in the surrounding country, but they were well
armed, well equipped, and ready for any emergency. In 1809 this able
American General concluded a treaty between the Delawares, Miamis and
Pottawattamies at Fort Wayne, in which the Indians ceded to the United
States Government a tract of land extending for sixty miles along the
Wabash River, above Vincennes. The treaty was made during the absence
of Tecumseh upon a visit to a neighboring tribe, and without either his
advice or knowledge. None of his followers, or those of the Prophet,
were present during the transaction. For this reason, and because
he considered that the Indians had given up too much of their land,
Tecumseh was furiously angry, and threatened to kill the chiefs who
had signed the treaty, saying: "The Americans can never survey this
land, for I shall kill them if they attempt to do it. It is wrong to
give away all of our possessions, and, if our people continue to do so,
there will be nothing left for the red men."
This was fierce talk, but for many months Tecumseh had endeavored to
form a great confederation of the Western tribes, similar to that of
Pontiac. The Western Indians had been enemies for centuries, so that it
was a herculean task to bring them together in bonds of friendship. Yet
the astute Tecumseh visited the Creeks in the far South, and secured
the friendship of Weatherford, or Red Eagle; the tribes living upon the
farthest extremity of Lake Superior; and those who camped far beyond
the muddy waters of the Mississippi. For four years he pushed through
the wilderness, sometimes in a canoe, and sometimes on foot, making his
camp among the roving bands of redskins, or alone in the solitude of
the forest. Everywhere he would hold conferences and long pow-wows with
the chiefs of the Western tribes and would warn them that, unless they
joined with him and his brother--the Prophet--in a mighty confederacy,
the whites would soon come from the East in overwhelming numbers, and
would completely cover the land then held by the red men. "You must
make a stand, or your children will be without hunting grounds," he
would say. "Rise, O red men, rise to defend your homes from invasion
by the whites!" These appeals were not in vain; the redskins prepared
for hostilities under his leadership; and in 1810 it was said that he
controlled more than sixteen hundred warriors, who were fully prepared
for a long campaign.
This activity of Tecumseh and the Prophet gave Governor Harrison
serious alarm, and he wrote of his fears to the Government at
Washington, requesting more men and more arms upon the frontier. He
even called Tecumseh before him, and said:
"Why are you trying to bring about a union of the different Indian
tribes?"
The great chief looked keenly at him.
"For the same reason that you have brought about a union of your
colonies," he answered. "We Indians have never objected to that, and
what business is it of yours what we do among ourselves? Besides, you
have so many cheats and scoundrels among you that we must unite in
order to save ourselves from their clutches. What harm is there in
this, pray? We are in our own country, which has been left us by the
Great Spirit."
It is not known what reply the Governor made to this, but it is known
that Tecumseh withdrew to Prophet's Town, a settlement which he and his
brother had made on the Tippecanoe River (one of the tributaries of the
Wabash) in Indiana. Here was a large body of Indians who were combining
practices of warfare with their religious exercises, and were often
insolent to the whites. After numerous complaints had reached him about
the redskins who had settled at Prophet's Town, Governor Harrison sent
a messenger to them, asking why they had established themselves here,
and why they made such active preparations for war.
"The Great Spirit has fixed this spot for the Indian to kindle
his campfire, and he dare not go to any other," said Tecumseh.
"Elsk-wata-wa and his brother Tecumseh must remain upon the banks of
the Tippecanoe, or the Great Spirit will be angry with them. Evil
birds have carried false news to my father, the Governor. Let him not
believe that Elsk-wata-wa, the Prophet, wishes to make war upon him and
his people. It is not true."
The messenger brought this answer back to Harrison, but in a few weeks
the Governor dispatched a Mr. Barron to Tippecanoe, with a letter
requesting the Indians to allow the land to be surveyed, to live at
peace with the white settlers, and to submit to the Government. When
Barron reached Tippecanoe, he was conducted with great ceremony to the
place where the Prophet was seated, surrounded by numerous braves in
their gaudiest raiment.
In a tone of great anger and scorn, the red leader rose, and said:
"For what purpose do you come here? Bronilette was here; he was a spy.
Dubois was here; _he_ was a spy. Now _you_ have come here; _you_, also,
are a spy. _There_ is your grave! Look on it!" He pointed, as he ceased
speaking, to the ground near the spot where the emissary stood, and
this person naturally began to tremble for his life.
At this juncture, the majestic Tecumseh strode from a lodge, and, in a
cold and haughty tone, said: "Your life is in no danger. Say why you
have come among us."
"Here is a letter from Governor Harrison," Barron replied. "I will read
it: 'Tecumseh and Elsk-wata-wa, I know that your warriors are brave,
but ours are not less so. What can your few brave warriors do against
the innumerable warriors of the Seventeen Fires (Seventeen States)?
Our bluecoats are more numerous than you can count; our hunters are
like leaves in the forest, or the grains of sand upon the Wabash. Do
you think that the redcoats (British) can protect you; they are not
even able to protect themselves. They do not think of going to war with
us. If they did, you would soon see our flag wave over all the forts
of Canada. What reason have you to complain of the Seventeen Fires?
Have they taken anything from you? Have they ever violated any of the
treaties made with the red men? You say that they have purchased lands
from those who had no right to sell them. Show that this is so and the
land will be instantly restored. Show us the rightful owners. I have
full power to arrange this business, but, if you would rather carry
your complaints before your great father in Washington, you can do so.'"
"I like this letter," said Tecumseh, when Barron had finished. "I
remember your Big Chief Harrison when he was with the Big Snake
(General Wayne) at Fallen Timbers. I will come and hold a council with
him, with thirty of my principal men. Some of my young men will wish to
go, too, so there will be more of us. We will come to the home of your
Big Chief in a short time."
So on the twelfth of August, 1810, four hundred warriors, painted
red, yellow and blue, armed with tomahawks and spears, and naked to
the waist, paddled down the Wabash to confer with Harrison. They were
a fierce-looking lot, and Tecumseh, who led them, although not much
painted, was brilliant in new clothes and gorgeous blankets.
Harrison learned of the approach of the Indians from a scout, and was
waiting for them upon the front porch of his own house, surrounded by
a small guard of soldiers, many citizens of Vincennes, and several
civil and military officers. The redskins were soon seen coming down
the river, and, landing upon the shore, they approached the house.
Advancing to within about forty yards of the place where Harrison was
sitting, they all halted, and, after an interpreter was sent forward,
Tecumseh stated that he refused to hold the council upon the porch, but
would do so in a grove near by. The Governor was perfectly willing to
acquiesce, and, moving the chairs and benches to the grove, the whites
seated themselves, while the redskins squatted upon the grass.
Tecumseh now began to speak. "I am determined to fight against the
cession of lands held by the Indians to you whites, unless all the
tribes assent to it," said he, in part. "I admit that I attempted to
kill the chief who signed the Fort Wayne treaty, and, therefore, I will
have my own war chiefs, in future, manage the affairs of our people,
and not the village chiefs. You Americans have driven the Indians from
the seacoast to where we now stand, and you will soon drive us into
the lakes. I will not make war upon your bluecoats, but, if you push
further into our country, I cannot hold back my followers from the
slaughter of your people." He then made a summary of the wrongs which
his red followers had suffered at the hands of the whites, and, as he
spoke, his warriors nodded their heads in approval, saying: "Ugh! Ugh!
It is the truth!"
When the great Indian leader had finished his oration, he turned to
seat himself, but no chair was there, and his face showed annoyance
at this seeming discourtesy. Appreciating the expression upon his
countenance, Governor Harrison immediately ordered a chair to be
brought him, and, as the interpreter handed it to the celebrated
warrior, he remarked: "Your father requests you to be seated."
Fire flashed from the beady eyes of Tecumseh, as he exclaimed in a loud
tone:
"My father, eh? The sun is my father, and the earth is my mother. On
her bosom I will repose," and, drawing his brilliant blanket around
him, with great dignity, he seated himself among his warriors upon the
ground.
Not at all disturbed by this tart reply, Harrison continued: "You
Indians are not one nation, and do not, in common, own this territory.
The Miamis have been the real owners of the tract on the Wabash, which
the United States has secured during the late treaty, and you Shawnees
have no right to interfere with their actions. Upon the arrival of the
whites in this country they found the Miamis in possession of the land,
and you Shawnees lived in Georgia, from whence you were driven by the
Creeks. It is absurd to say that you Indians constitute one nation, for
if the Great Spirit had so willed it, he would not have given different
languages to the different tribes."
As the interpreter told this to Tecumseh, his eyes began to snap
angrily. Then, springing to his feet, he started to gesticulate wildly
and to talk in loud, vicious tones. "What is he saying?" asked the
Governor of the interpreter, but a General who understood the Shawnee
language replied: "These red devils mean mischief, Governor, be upon
your guard."
No sooner had he ceased speaking than all the painted warriors
grasped their tomahawks, leaped to their feet, and looked angrily and
vindictively at the Governor. Harrison sprang from his chair, drew
his sword, and held it before him. As he did so, a friendly chief,
who stood near by, pulled out his pistol, and a Captain of the troops
seized a dirk and held it pointed towards the savages. The citizens
who were present and who had no arms, took up clubs and pieces of the
tables and chairs, while a minister of the Gospel, the Rev. Mr. Winans,
ran to the Governor's house, seized a musket, and stood at the doorway
to defend his family. The Indians took no move forward, but were all
prepared for an attack, should Tecumseh give the word. They stood
quietly until numerous soldiers ran up and pointed their loaded muskets
at them, and Harrison cried out: "Cease this demonstration! Put down
those guns!" Then, turning to the interpreter, he continued: "What is
the meaning of this? Ask yonder Indian leader."
"All that you have said is false," cried Tecumseh. "You and the
Seventeen Fires (States) have cheated and imposed upon the Indians."
"You are a bad man," Harrison replied through the interpreter. "I
will have nothing more to do with you. Since you have come here for a
council, you can go to your canoes in safety, but you must immediately
leave my village."
When the Indians heard this message, they turned around sullenly
and departed in the direction of their boats, while the soldiers
kept their guns cocked until they were out of sight. It had been an
exciting episode, and the citizens breathed a sigh of relief as they
saw the painted warriors disappearing through the woods. As night
fell, Harrison had two companies of militia brought into the town,
and ordered the men to sleep on their arms, as the Indians would
undoubtedly make an attack. But none came, and all were much surprised
the next day to see a Shawnee runner come into the streets of the town
with a note from Tecumseh, begging for another interview. "Certain
white men have told me to defy the power of the United States," wrote
the Shawnee, "and I do not intend to attack either town or soldiers."
Pleased by this pacific message, Harrison granted another interview, so
the crafty chief of the Shawnees soon put in an appearance, attended by
the same retinue as before. He was now calm, and conducted himself with
courtesy and consideration.
After a lengthy conversation, the Governor said: "You know, great
chief, that the mighty father of the white men in Washington has
decreed that these lands which we have purchased from the Miamis be
surveyed. Will you oppose our surveyors when we send them into this
country?"
Tecumseh's eye flashed fire, as he replied, through the interpreter:
"Nothing can shake the determination of myself and my followers to
insist upon the old boundary between your land and ours, before you
made this purchase from the Miamis."
He sat down amidst a chorus of "Hows!" from the chiefs assembled, and
then the leading sachems of the Wyandots, Pottawatomies, Ottawas and
Winnebagos arose, and each, in turn, said that he entered in league
with Tecumseh and the Shawnees, and would help them to repel any
advance of the whites beyond the Wabash River.
"I will make known your decision to the Great Father in Washington,"
said Harrison, "and I am certain that Tecumseh's claim to the land
will never be acknowledged, as the land has been bought by us from the
original owners, the Miamis, who had a perfect right to sell it." The
council now ended.
Next day the Governor visited Tecumseh in his camp, and was received
with great politeness by the great chief, who was very frank and open
in stating his views. "The Seventeen Fires (United States) will soon
drown all of my people," said he, with great feeling. "If your great
father in Washington will agree to give up the lands which he has
bought from the Miamis; will agree never to make a treaty for land
without the consent of all of our allied tribes, and will consult with
me as the spokesman of these tribes; I will be your ally in the war
which I know will shortly take place with England. If you will not do
this, I will join with my white brothers from Canada, who have sent me
many messages asking for my assistance in warfare with your people."
"I will make your views known to the President," said Harrison, "but I
know that he will not agree with them."
"Well," replied Tecumseh, "as the great chief is to settle the matter,
I hope the Great Spirit will put enough sense into his head to cause
him to give up the land. It is true that he is so far off that he will
not be injured by the war. He will sit still in his own town and drink
his wine, while you and I will have to fight it out."
The Governor looked grave. "You are right," he said. "We will soon be
fighting each other. A good many will be killed on both sides, and
there will be much suffering. I ask you to agree with me, Tecumseh,
that there will be no capturing of women and children by your warriors,
and no torture or ill treatment of those men that your warriors take as
prisoners."
Tecumseh raised his hand aloft. "I will keep my people from these
things," he exclaimed. "Tecumseh has never ill treated his prisoners,
nor has it ever been done in his presence." So saying, he sat down, and
Governor Harrison returned to his own troops, much satisfied with the
manner in which he had been received.
As the great chief had said, war was soon to break out between the
whites and redskins, and, seeing the probability of this, Tecumseh
soon left upon a journey to the South, where he intended to visit
the Choctaws, Creeks, Seminoles, and other tribes, and to ask their
assistance in driving the white men from their territory. He had
marvellous success. The Indians were infatuated by his persuasive
eloquence and promised their allegiance to him and his cause. At
Tuckabatchie, Alabama, he addressed the Creeks in a big council, but
his remarks were not greeted with the same cordiality as elsewhere.
The Indians, in fact, seemed to have no interest in the confederation
which he begged them to join, so growing angry, Tecumseh stamped his
foot upon the ground, and, looking at the principal Sachem, called Big
Warrior, cried: "Your blood is white. You do not believe that the Great
Spirit has sent me. You shall know that it is so. I leave Tuckabatchie
directly, and shall go straight to Detroit. When I arrive there I will
stamp on the ground with my foot and will shake down every house in
Tuckabatchie."
This was certainly a wild threat, but the crafty Tecumseh knew what
he was talking about, for he had heard from a white astrologer that
an earthquake was soon to take place. The Creeks often talked over
this threat, after the departure of the great Shawnee, and carefully
reckoned upon the number of days that it would take him to get to
Detroit. In course of time they estimated that he had arrived there,
and, as they anxiously awaited the fulfillment of the threat, a
terrible rumbling was heard, the earth rocked to and fro, the tepees
and lodges trembled and shook, and suddenly many of them toppled
over. Terrified and alarmed, the Creeks rushed wildly about, crying:
"Tecumseh has arrived at Detroit. His threat has come true. We must
join with him in his confederation or all will be lost." This was
the historical earthquake of New Madrid or the Mississippi, which
(according to tradition) took place upon the very day that Tecumseh
reached Detroit. It secured for him a great and lasting reputation
among the red men.
Shortly after this the Indians at Prophet's Town became very warlike
and aggressive, so much so that Governor Harrison determined to send
an armed force against them. Tecumseh was away, but his brother,
Elsk-wata-wa (the Prophet), was a pretty good warrior, and was burning
in hatred of the whites. He inspired his followers with many good
thoughts; taught them to give up firewater (whiskey) and also to till
the soil. But he also preached to them that they must kill off the
whites if they could, and so stem their advance into the land once held
by the redskins. On September 26, 1811, at the head of nine hundred
troops, Harrison moved towards the encampment of these hostiles, and,
after marching for six days, camped on the eastern shore of the Wabash
River, two miles above the present city of Terre Haute. A log fortress
of felled trees was here constructed, called Fort Harrison, and leaving
a small guard here, the main army advanced along the Wabash River
until it reached a broad stream, called the Vermillion. A blockhouse
was erected to protect the boats and heavy baggage, and then the white
troops pressed forward to a position three-quarters of a mile away from
the Indian encampment at Prophet's Town. Harrison had moved warily and
cautiously, with scouts out upon either side to warn him of ambuscades.
The two fortifications in his rear were excellent protection should he
be forced to retreat, while his soldiers and frontiersmen were well
used to border warfare, and showed no such careless advancing as had
the men under St. Clair.
Seven miles northeast of the present city of Lafayette, Indiana, the
army camped upon a beautifully level stretch of ground, upon which was
a belt of timber. In front lay a marshy prairie, stretching away to
Prophet's Town, while on the right was another marshy strip, through
which ran a small stream surrounded by willows and brushwood. It was
a good position; higher than the surrounding country, dryer, and more
healthful. Before the army had reached this place, the Governor had
sent messengers to the Prophet, demanding that the various tribes which
he had with him should return to their respective territories; that
all stolen horses in their possession should be given up; and that all
Indians who had murdered white settlers should be delivered over to
justice. But these messengers (all friendly Indians) had nearly all
been insulted and dismissed with contemptuous remarks about themselves
and the Governor. Harrison was, therefore, eager to fall upon the red
men and give them a sound thrashing--such a thrashing that they would
not soon forget.
The soldiers reached this position about midday, and soon ambassadors
came in from Prophet's Town with a request that they refrain from
battle until the following day, when a peace talk could be had.
Harrison consented to this, but was too wary to be caught napping, and
made his men sleep in order of battle, with their muskets loaded beside
them. The night was dark and rainy. Sentries were, therefore, carefully
stationed upon every side of the American camp, and these were told to
keep a sharp lookout for any approaching savage. As it was the sixth of
November the air was crisp and chill, while the brown leaves of autumn
littered the ground with a thick covering, which made it difficult
for a foe to approach unobserved. Every officer and private was told
exactly what to do, in case of an attack, and thus the little army of
invasion rested, like a bulldog upon the leash, ready and prepared to
make a spring.
A sentinel, well in advance of the American line, was looking intently
across the wide sweep of prairie in the direction of Prophet's
Town--shrouded in the murk of the early morning mist--when he saw
something moving in the yellow grass. The blades bent to the right and
left as if some animal were creeping through them, so the watchman
became alarmed. Seizing his musket, he stooped down to peer through
the reedy waste, and, as he did so, a tomahawk, hurled by an unseen
hand, spun through the air and just missed his head. In a second, his
gun was at his shoulder, and he fired at a dark object which he saw in
the reeds before him. A wild warwhoop shrilled through the stillness,
as he did so, and from all about, in the tall grass, the painted forms
of red men leaped from their hiding places and rushed towards the
sleeping camp. But they met a different reception than that which they
had anticipated. The men who had been resting on their arms had, in a
moment, seized their muskets, had formed in a line facing the enemy,
and met the onrush of the savages with a volley of lead.