TECUMSEH, "THE SHOOTING STAR": CELEBRATED SHAWANOE DIPLOMAT, ORATOR AND SOLDIER
When Little Turtle and his army were battling with "Mad Anthony" Wayne at Fallen Timbers, one warrior—a Shawanoe—was present, who was subsequently to play an important part in the struggle between the whites and redskins for the possession of America. This was Tecumseh, or "The Shooting Star," a Shawanoe, or Shawnee warrior who was born on the Mad River in Ohio, in 1768, and whose father was killed in the fierce battle of the Great Kanawha. His twin brother, Elsk-wata-wa, the Prophet, was to become a man of note among the Western Indians, just as he was, himself, to obtain fame and notoriety.
The people of the tribe to which this celebrated man belonged were noted for "much talk" as well as for hard fighting, and Tecumseh was never at a loss for words. His appearance was always noble, his form symmetrical, his carriage erect and lofty, his motions commanding, and, under the excitement of his favorite theme of driving the American invaders from the lands of the Indians, he became a new being. When speaking upon the subject, his countenance would light up with fiery and haughty pride; his frame would swell with emotion; every posture which he assumed, and every gesture, would be eloquent with meaning. At the same time, his language would flow with glowing eloquence, as it spoke the passionate thoughts of his very soul. His manner, too, was never coarse, nor was there any show of cruelty in his disposition. He was a man of mark among the many Indians who opposed the advance of the whites into the country watered by the slow-moving Ohio.
When the treaty of Greenville was signed, this eminent redskin was about twenty-five years of age, and, secluding himself in the forests of his own country, he there lived the existence of a hunter and trapper. There is no evidence that he was in the numerous Indian forays which took place upon the frontier at this time. In fact, various stories have come down to us that exhibit his friendliness to the whites whom he met in the forest. A band of roving Shawnees often hunted with him, and, because of his ability to sway their spirits with his words and because of his prowess in hunting, he was elected chief of this small body of woodland rovers.
One day a number of Shawnees wagered Tecumseh that each of them could kill as many deer in three days of hunting as he, himself, could. "I accept your challenge," said the great chief, "and I will return here within the period with twice as many deer as any of you." So making the proper preparations that evening, he departed next morn at daybreak into the forest. Three days elapsed before any of the huntsmen came back, but at dusk of the third day since their departure all returned with their shoulders burdened with the game which had fallen by their skill. "Ugh! Ugh!" said one, "I have killed twelve. I have good my boast!" "And I thirteen," cried another. But, as he spoke, Tecumseh came into the light of the fire, staggering beneath a load of peltries. "Here are thirty deerskins," said he, depositing his bundle before the other hunters. "The carcasses are in the woods and I will go to get the haunches tomorrow."
Shortly after this the Shawnee chief entered the cabin of a white pioneer upon the frontier. This borderer was friendly to him and would often hunt with him in the dark recesses of the forest. So Tecumseh stalked in without introduction, and, with much gravity, seated himself in a rough hewn chair. A fat Kentuckian was sitting in the cabin. When he saw the noted warrior, he began to shake and tremble with fear, a fact which seemed to amuse the celebrated Indian. With a meaning glance at the owner of the cabin, Tecumseh remarked: "I have just returned from a night hunt against the palefaces. Thirty scalps hang in my wigwam, which I have secured in this expedition. But I am looking for just one more." Here he laid his hand upon his tomahawk. "And I must have this scalp before the setting of the sun," he thundered.
The Kentuckian was now ghastly pale and was trembling with fear. This seemed to please the famous Shawnee, and, walking over to him, he placed his hand upon his broad and shaking shoulder. "You are scared, are you not?" said he. "But there is no reason for it. Ugh! Ugh! I am just playing with you. I would not hurt a hair upon your head." As he spoke, his host burst into a hearty laugh, which showed the frightened borderer that an Indian could joke as well as a white man.
During this period there is no doubt that Tecumseh brooded over the 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.
The attacking force consisted of between five and eight hundred warriors under White Loon, Stone Eater, and Winnemac. The Prophet had mixed a mysterious broth at a meeting of the Indians the night before, and had told his followers that one-half of Harrison's army was composed of dead men, and that the other half was made up of crazy soldiers. Encouraged by this, the Indians had begun to creep across the prairie in the direction of the American camp at four in the morning. The Prophet had also stated that the bullets of the Americans would rebound from the bodies of the red men, but this did not prove to be the case, for, as the mixed bands of warriors came onward, they were shot down by scores. Still, they attacked with terrible fury, and, armed with excellent short rifles which had been furnished them by the Indian traders, they did a great deal of damage to the American line. Soon the entire camp was surrounded by the redskins, who rushed forward with tremendous ferocity, and, where the soldiers formed hollow squares with their bayonets outward, the braves would throw themselves vindictively upon them and endeavor to knock them over with their tomahawks.
The only coward on the side of the Indians was the famous Prophet. While his followers were struggling desperately with the frontiersmen, he stood upon a small hill, well out of harm's way, and cried out encouragement to the Indians in a shrill and piercing voice. "Fight on, O my people," he kept repeating, "for it shall be as the Prophet has said. You will crush these white enemies." The sounds of his wailing could easily be heard by Harrison's men, and, although some of his warriors requested him to join them in battle, he did not seem as anxious to appear on the firing line as they had expected. His followers, on the other hand, fought most courageously, and threw themselves with desperation upon the unyielding American line. Harrison rode up and down among his men, cheering them on, and crying to them not to give in to the assaults of the redskins, and, although he usually mounted a white horse, in the confusion of the morning, he had seized one of another color. This probably saved his life, as the Indians knew that his usual mount was white and soon killed his own animal which a young lieutenant was riding. The rider also fell, pierced by a dozen well-directed bullets.
While the yells of the Indians were intermingled with the hoarse shouts of the rangers, the rattle of deer's hoofs was heard above the din, and, at this savage signal, the redskins retreated beyond rifle range. But they were not yet defeated, and soon formed for another onslaught, while the white soldiers re-arranged their own line, fixed bayonets, and reloaded, in anticipation of a second charge. "Give the redskins a dose of lead, first," commanded Harrison, "then at 'em with the bayonets. But keep in touch all along the line, and do not allow yourselves to get split up into small parties, which the red devils can surround!" His counsel was well heeded.
In a few moments the followers of the Prophet again rushed from the underbrush upon the extended line of the American rangers, and, although the savages had now departed from their usual custom of fighting behind cover, this was to do them no good. As they ran desperately against the now well-prepared men in buckskin, they were met with a murderous fire, for day was well advanced, and the white soldiers could see their gun sights. The roar from the rifles was continuous. The redskins fell to earth upon every side. Shrieks and groans of the wounded and dying men were intermingled with the coarse shouts of battle, as the forms of Indians and whites struggled and fell, locked in a deadly embrace beneath a cloud of drifting smoke, which hung above the battle ground.
But now the moment came for an advance of the buckskin-clad rangers. As at Waterloo when Wellington cried: "Up guards and at 'em!" Harrison called: "On, men! Give them the bayonet, and no quarter!" With a wild yell of enthusiasm the rangers started forward and ploughed into the masses of the redskins with a will. With sharp bayonet thrusts they cut down all who opposed them, for they struck out savagely, and hacked away like Cromwell's Ironsides. Nothing could stand up against such an onrush. The Indians wilted. They gave in. They turned. They ran. And the first to skip headlong across the yellow prairie was the far-famed Prophet, whose courage had oozed from him like water through a sieve. His prophecies had all gone wrong; his incantations had been worthless, and his influence among the red men had forever parted.
Harrison now pressed on to Prophet's Town, and found it absolutely deserted, for the Indians had decided to abandon everything, and had left behind their corn, chickens, hogs, household furniture, and firearms. As the rangers swept onward, thirty-seven of their own numbers lay dead upon the famous field of Tippecanoe, while one hundred and thirty-seven wounded limped to the carts in their rear. The redskin loss was never known, but it must have been much larger than that of the whites. Flushed with victory, the Americans soon destroyed the Indian village, and then returned to Vincennes, well satisfied with such a complete victory. Harrison, himself, had won the admiration of his countrymen; so much so, that thirty years later he was elected President of the United States, mainly because of the fame which he won in this frontier battle. The campaign slogan of "Tippecanoe (as Harrison was called) and Tyler, too," swept over the country like fire, and roused an enthusiasm for the brave leader which has seldom been equalled. It resulted in his election to the position of Chief Executive by a magnificent majority.
Tecumseh had been away at the time of the battle, and, when he heard of the defeat of his own people, he was furious with rage. Hastening to Prophet's Town, he found only ashes and desolation where once had been stores, ammunition, arms, and houses. Filled with mortification and anger, he searched for his brother, the Prophet, and when he found him, shook him by the hair, so great was his resentment; for he had told the Indians to fight no battle during his absence. The Prophet was ever afterwards an object of contempt, and, as he would walk through the Indian village, the boys would yell and jeer at him, while the braves would turn their backs when they saw him coming.
Tecumseh wrote to General Harrison that he now desired to go to Washington and visit the Great Father, a request that was granted him. But he was told that he must go alone, and without a retinue; an answer which wounded the spirit of the proud savage so deeply that, when war broke out between the British and Americans a few years later (the War of 1812), he joined the English army in Canada, saying: "I have taken sides with my father, the King, and I will suffer my bones to bleach upon the shore of the great lakes, before I will recross the American territory to take part in any council of neutrality."
In the fighting of the War of 1812 this great chief showed that he could lead an army almost as well as a white man. His military talent was so great that he was made a Brigadier General, a position which, to my knowledge, no other American Indian has ever held among white troops, except General Ely S. Parker, who commanded a detachment of regulars in the Army of the Potomac during the War of the Rebellion. The celebrated Shawnee fought bravely at a fierce fight at Brownstown, and was also at the siege of Detroit, with about seven hundred warriors, when this city capitulated to the British. The whole American frontier was open to the ravages of the Indians and English after this event, and under General Proctor, the combined forces of redskins and redcoats swept down upon the border fortress of Fort Meigs, and here captured a number of prisoners, although they did not take the stockade.
The Indians under Tecumseh numbered about eighteen hundred in the fighting at this place, and, giving way to their instincts, they tomahawked all that they could. General Proctor made no attempt to stop them, but was looking calmly at their fiendish work, when he saw Tecumseh galloping forward at great speed. Reaching the scene of slaughter, the savage leaped from his horse, and seizing two Indians by the throat, knocked them to the ground. Then, drawing his tomahawk and scalping knife, he cried out: "He of you who injures another prisoner will be killed by Tecumseh. How dare you wreak vengeance upon defenseless men? Cowards! Begone!" Cowed by his consuming wrath, the savages slunk away, while the great chief, turning to Proctor, said: "Why, General, did you not stop this awful massacre?"
"Sir," replied the British General, "your Indians cannot be restrained."
"Begone!" thundered Tecumseh. "You are not fit to command! Go home and put on the petticoat of a squaw."
Shortly after this the celebrated Shawnee noticed a small group of Indians near by, who were standing about some prisoners. "Yonder are four of your people who have been taken prisoners," said Colonel Elliot to him. "You may do as you please with them." Tecumseh, therefore, walked over to the group and found four Shawnees, who, while fighting on the side of the Americans, had been unable to escape the British regulars, and had been captured. "Friends," said he, "Colonel Elliot has placed you in my charge, and I will send you back to your nation to have a talk with your people." So saying, he took them with him for some distance, and then sent two of his warriors to accompany them to their own chiefs, where they were discharged, under the promise that they would never fight again against the British during the war.
The disasters to the Americans led the Government to collect a larger army, which was placed under the command of General Harrison, the hero of Tippecanoe. Captain Oliver H. Perry built a fleet on Lake Erie, sailed out to attack the British boats, and defeated them. When he had done so, Harrison moved upon Fort Malden, where both Proctor and Tecumseh were stationed. The former burned the fort and retreated with Tecumseh's Indians, meaning to join the other British forces at Niagara, but before the retreat (when Harrison was at Fort Meigs) Tecumseh had sent him a personal challenge, which ran:
"General Harrison: I have with me eight hundred braves. You have an equal number in your hiding place. Come out with them and give me battle. You talked like a brave when we met at Vincennes, and I respected you, but now you hide behind logs, and in earth, like a groundhog. Give me answer!
Tecumseh."
Harrison, however, refused to come out, and, as Proctor decided to retreat, Tecumseh seriously meditated a withdrawal from the contest. "You always told us that you would never draw your foot off British ground," said he to the English commander. "Now, father, we see that you are drawing back, and we are sorry to see our father doing so without seeing the enemy. We must compare our Father's conduct to a fat dog which carries its tail on its back, but, when affrighted, drops it between its legs and runs off. Father, listen! The Americans have not yet defeated us by land, neither are we sure that they have done so by water; we, therefore, wish to remain here and fight our enemy, should he make his appearance. If we are defeated, we will then retreat with our father.
"Father, you have got the arms and ammunition which our great father sent to his red children. If you have an idea of going away, give them to us and you may go, and welcome. For us, our lives are in the hand of the Great Spirit. We are determined to defend our land, and if it be his will, we wish to leave our bones upon them."
But Proctor would listen to no such talk, and pretended, from time to time, that he would halt and give battle. Much to the chagrin of the redskins, he kept on moving. Finally he halted on the river Thames, in Michigan, near a Moravian town, and told Tecumseh that he would here fight it out with the advancing Americans. The great chief, himself, chose the ground for battling, with a marsh on one flank and a stream upon the other. "Brother warriors," said he to his chiefs, "we are about to enter an engagement from which I shall, doubtless, never return; my body will remain upon the field of battle." Then unbuckling his sword, he handed it to a chief, remarking: "When my son becomes a noted warrior, and able to wield a sword, give this to him."
Proctor had planted his guns in the highway and had deployed his regulars between them and a little marsh. Another marsh was five hundred yards further on, to the right, and here the Indians under Tecumseh were stationed, together with some British regulars. The rest of the Indians were sent out in front, upon the extreme right, in a position just in front of the swampy bottom of the larger marsh. The ground was nearly covered with an open growth of trees, without underbrush, so that there was little impediment to fighting. Harrison, as he came up, placed his mounted infantry in front, for this was his strongest force, composed of a splendid body of Kentucky frontiersmen under Colonel Richard M. Johnson, all of whom were well used to border warfare. The infantry was in the rear, with a considerable body on the left flank, turned at right angle to the line, so as to face the Indians in the marsh. They were told to advance at the blast of the bugle and to fight as they had done at Tippecanoe—commands which they obeyed quite faithfully. At the shrill note of the horn the horsemen trotted forward. Then, as the British regulars began to pepper them with bullets, they gave a wild cheer, galloped on, and soon were charging right into the lines of the English.
DEATH OF TECUMSEH.
Proctor knew that he was badly wanted by the Americans, because of his numerous massacres of defenseless non-combatants, and so leaped into a two-horse vehicle in order to escape. But a dozen well-mounted men galloped after him, and seeing that he was about to be captured, the faint-hearted Britisher jumped to the earth, took to the woods, and got safely off. Tecumseh's men, meanwhile, stood their ground and did not, at first, give way before the American advance. But soon the savages posted upon the extreme right before the marsh ran wildly into the woods. The valiant Tecumseh was shot in the arm, but, disdaining to fly, stood up manfully, while his wild, inspiring war whoop was loudly heard above the din of battle. Thus he was holding his own men to their work, when the Kentucky cavalry, having dispersed Proctor's regulars, returned to the field of battle. Forming for the attack, they rushed, with a wild cheer, upon the mixed battalion of reds and whites. Johnson, himself, was soon near the great chief and shot at him with his pistol. Tecumseh fell, whether from this shot, or not, is not definitely known. The tide of conflict rolled by the prostrate form of the mighty Shawnee, and, with fierce cheers of victory, the Americans chased the now routed British and Indians into the forest, securing a complete and overwhelming victory.
Near the battlefield, where a large oak lay prostrate by a willow marsh, the faithful Shawnees buried Tecumseh, after the American army, flushed with success, returned to the United States. The British Government granted a pension to the widow of the noted warrior, and to his son gave a sword. The willows and rose-bushes now grow thick above the mound where repose, in silence and solitude, the ashes of the mighty chief of the Shawnees. He struggled in vain against the inevitable, and his simple grave is only one of the many monuments which mark the restless, overwhelming advance of the conquering Americans. He fought a good fight. His fame is secure upon the golden pages of history.