The great house of the Governor at Vincennes is situated inland from the Wabash river about six hundred feet, and there formerly stood in front of this house and next to the river a grove of walnut trees which afforded a gracious shade. It was here, that on a bright, sunshiny day in August, the dramatic meeting occurred between the Shawnee chief and Governor Harrison. Local tradition has preserved a tale that the Governor had secreted in the great parlor of his house a company of one hundred well-armed soldiers to provide against any treachery on the part of the red men, and computations, have been made to show that the room would accommodate that number of infantry, but this story must be regarded with suspicion.
Tecumseh and his party seem to have arrived at the place of rendezvous in canoes and by way of the river. He appeared on the scene with a retinue of forty warriors accoutered in the elaborate costume of the ceremonial, with painted bodies and feathered headdress, and fully armed with war clubs and tomahawks. The chief himself, invariably wore a simple dress of Indian tanned buckskin, with a mantle of the same material thrown over the left shoulder. In his belt he carried an elegant silver mounted tomahawk and a hunting knife in a leathern case. "Tall, athletic and manly, dignified, but graceful," he stood as the chosen exponent of his people's wrongs, ready to voice their plaints in the "musical and euphonious" accents of the Shawnee tongue.
A close observer of the savages of that day has stated that, "those who have been familiar with the Indians of the northwest, when they were Indians, and took sufficient interest in them as a race to study with care their customs, laws and usages, are aware that when attending councils with other nations or tribes, or with our agents, that they were always acting a part, a kind of diplomatic drama." To Tecumseh the moment appeared propitious. The time had arrived to put the youthful Governor of thirty-seven years to the test. Harrison was attended by the judges of the supreme court; General Gibson, the secretary; Major G. R. Floyd, and other officers of the regular army, and a guard of twelve men from the garrison under the command of Lieutenant Jennings; there was also a large assemblage of citizens present, who had been invited thither to hear what Tecumseh had to present. The stage was well set, and the bold and insolent heart of the savage rose high. "As he came in front of the dais, an elevated portion of the place upon which the Governor and the officers of the territory were seated, the Governor invited him, through his interpreter, to come forward and take a seat with him and his counsellors, premising the invitation by saying 'That it was the wish of the Great Father, the President of the United States, that he should do so'. The chief paused for a moment, as the words were uttered and the sentence finished, and raising his tall form to its greatest height, surveyed the troops and the crowd around him. Then with his keen eyes fixed on the Governor for a single moment, and turning them to the sky above, with his sinewy arms pointed toward the heavens, and with a tone and manner indicative of supreme contempt, for the paternity assigned him, said in a voice whose clarion tones were heard throughout the whole assembly: 'My Father?—The sun is my father—the earth is my mother—and on her bosom I will recline!"
Thus the council opened. The Governor, with a short sword at his side, seated on the platform with his officers and advisers; the Indians in front of him seated on the grass; to the left, the Potawatomi chief, Winamac, with one of his young men, extended on the green, and all about the eager and curious faces of the crowd, now wrought up to a high state of tension by the sarcastic retort of the Indian chieftain. The speech that followed, "was full of hostility from beginning to end." Tecumseh began in a low voice and spoke for about an hour. "As he warmed with his subject his clear tones might be heard, as if 'trumpet-tongued' to the utmost limits of the assembled crowd who gathered around him." The interpreter Barron, was an illiterate man and the beauty and eloquence of the chief's oration was in great part lost. He denounced with passion and bitterness the cruel murder of the Moravian Indians during the Revolutionary War, the assassination of friendly chieftains and other outrages, and said that he did not know how he could ever be a friend of the white man again; that the tribes had been driven by the Americans "toward the setting sun, like a galloping horse," and that they would shortly push them into the lakes where they could neither stand nor walk; that the white people had allotted each separate tribe a certain tract of land so as to create strife between them, and so that they might be destroyed; that he and his brother had purposed from the beginning to form a confederation of all the tribes to resist any further encroachment of the whites; that the Great Spirit had given all the land in common to the Indians, and that no single tribe had a right to alienate any particular portion of it. He declared that the Treaty of Fort Wayne had been made with the consent of only a few; that it was largely brought about by the threats of Winamac, and that a reluctant consent had been wrung from the Weas because they were few in number. So fierce and vitriolic became his abuse of Winamac that that chieftain primed his pistols and seemed ready at any moment to take Tecumseh's life. The speaker went on to declare: "that if the government would not give up the lands that were purchased from the Miamis, Delawares, Potawatomis, etc., that those who were united with him, were determined to fall upon those tribes and destroy them. That they were determined to have no more chiefs, but in the future to have everything under the direction of the warriors;" that the Governor would see what would be done to the village chiefs who had sold the land, and unless he restored it he would be a party to the killing of them.
The bold and defiant attitude of the speaker, and the tone of insolence that pervaded all his words, astonished even the Governor. A weak or corrupt man would have trembled in his place and been at a loss how to answer. Not so with Harrison. All who knew him, says John Law, were willing to acknowledge his courage, both moral and physical. He knew that the treaty of Fort Wayne had been concluded under the instructions of government; that his dealings with the tribes had been open-handed and fair, even with the insignificant Weas of the lower waters; that the "unwarranted and unwarrantable" pretensions of Tecumseh were made largely for their effect upon the audience, and after Tecumseh's remarks had been openly interpreted by Barron, he arose without tremor or hesitation to deny the chief's assertions. He spoke no doubt with some degree of force, for he undoubtedly understood by now that Tecumseh would never have given utterance to many of his charges, without entertaining a belief that they would meet the approval of some traitorous faction of the assembly. He answered: "That the charges of bad faith against our government, and the assertion that injustice had been done the Indians in any treaty ever made, or any council ever held with them by the United States, had no foundation in fact. That in all their dealings with the red men, they had ever been governed by the strictest rules of right and justice. That while other civilized nations had treated them with contumely and contempt, ours had always acted in good faith with them. That so far as he individually was concerned, he could say in the presence of the "Great Spirit" who was watching over their deliberations, that his conduct, even with the most insignificant tribe, had been marked with kindness, and all his acts governed by honor, integrity and fair dealing. That he had uniformly been the friend of the red men, and that it was the first time in his life that his motives had been questioned, or his actions impeached. It was the first time in his life that he had ever heard such unfounded claims put forth, as Tecumseh set up, by any chief, or any Indian, having the least regard for truth or the slightest knowledge of the intercourse between the Indians and the white men, from the time this continent was first discovered. That as to the claim of Tecumseh that all the Indians were but one nation, and owned the lands in common, that this could not be maintained; that at the time the white men arrived on the continent they had found the Miamis in possession of the Wabash; that the Shawnees were then residents of Georgia, from which they had been driven by the Creeks; that the lands in question had been purchased from the Miamis who were the original owners of it; that if the Great Spirit had intended that the tribes should constitute but one nation, he would not have put different tongues in their heads, but taught them all to speak a language that all could understand; that the Miamis had been benefited by the annuities of the government and that the Seventeen Fires had always been punctual in the payment of them; that the Shawnees had no right to come from a distant country and control the Miamis in the disposal of their own property."
Photo by Heaton
Raccoon Creek, Parke County, Indiana. The north line of the New Purchase.[ToList]
An event now took place, that but for the quick presence of mind and decisive action of the Governor, might have terminated in bloodshed. Harrison had taken his seat and Barron had interpreted his reply to the Shawnees, and was turning to the Miamis and Potawatomi, when Tecumseh excitedly sprang to his feet and told Barron to tell the Governor that he lied. Barron, who as a subordinate in the Indian department, had great respect for his superiors, was seeking to mollify the harshness of this language, when he was again interrupted by Tecumseh, who said: "No! No! Tell him he lies!" The Governor noticed Tecumseh's angry manner, but thought he was seeking to make some explanation, when his attention was directed to Winamac, who was cocking his pistol, and a moment later, General Gibson, who understood the Shawnee language, said to Lieutenant Jennings: "Those fellows intend mischief; you had better bring up the guard." In an instant all was confusion. The warriors on the grass sprang to their feet brandishing their war clubs and tomahawks; Harrison extricated himself from his chair and drew his sword to defend himself; Major Floyd drew a dirk, and the Methodist minister Winans ran to the Governor's house, got a gun, and stood by the door to protect the family. Such of the citizens as could, armed themselves with brickbats. In the midst of this turmoil the guard came running up and were about to fire on the Indians, when Harrison quickly interposed and commanded them not to do so. He now demanded a full explanation, and when the intemperate words of Tecumseh were explained, told him he was a bad man and that he would hold no further communication with him; that as he had come there under the protection of the council fire, he might go in safety, but that he must immediately leave the neighborhood. The firm stand and commanding attitude of the Governor at once quieted the storm, and Tecumseh and his followers leisurely withdrew and retired to their camp. That night two companies of militia were brought in from the country, but no trouble occurred, and the time passed quietly until morning.