MIAMI CHIEF. (Rising.) And I renounce them also.
They were signed By sottish braves—the Long-Knife's
tavern-chiefs—
Who sell their honor like a pack of fur,
Make favour with the pale-face for his fee,
And caper with the hatchet for his sport.
I am a chief by right of blood, and fling
Your false and flimsy treaties in your face.
I am my nation's head, and own but one
As greater than myself, and he is here!
[Pointing to TECUMSEH.]
TECUMSEH. You have your answer, and from those whose
rights
Stand in your own admission. But from me—
The Shawanoe—the interloper here—
Take the full draught of meaning, and wash down
Their dry and bitter truths. Yes! from the South
My people came—fall'n from their wide estate
Where Altamaha's uncongealing springs
Kept a perpetual summer in their sight—
Sweet with magnolia blooms, and dropping balm,
And scented breath of orange and of pine.
And from the East the hunted Delawares came,
Flushed from their coverts and their native streams;
Your old allies, men ever true to you,
Who, resting after long and weary flight,
Are by your bands shot sitting on the ground.
HARRISON. Those men got ample payment for their lands,
Full recompense, and just equivalent.
TECUMSEH. They flew from death to light upon it here!
And many a tribe comes pouring from the East,
Smitten with fire—their outraged women, maimed,
Screaming in horror o'er their murdered babes,
Whose sinless souls, slashed out by white men's swords,
Whimper in Heaven for revenge. Oh, God!—
'Tis thus the pale-face prays, then cries 'Amen':—
He clamours, and his Maker answers him,
Whilst our Great Spirit sleeps! O, no, no, no,—
He does not sleep! He will avenge our wrongs!
That Christ the white men murdered, and thought dead—
Who, if He died for mankind, died for us—
He is alive, and looks from heaven on this!
Oh, we have seen your baseness and your guile;
Our eyes are opened and we know your ways!
No longer shall you hoax us with your pleas,
Or with the serpent's cunning wake distrust,
Range tribe 'gainst tribe—then shoot the remnant down,
And in the red man's empty cabin grin,
And shake with laughter o'er his desolate hearth.
No, we are one! the red men all are one
In colour as in love, in lands and fate!
HARRISON. Still, with the voice of wrath Tecumseh
speaks,
And not with reason's tongue.
TECUMSEH. O keep your reason! It is a thief which
steals away our lands.
Your reason is our deadly foe, and writes
The jeering epitaphs for our poor graves.
It is the lying maker of your books,
Wherein our people's vengeance is set down,
But not a word of crimes which led to it.
These are hushed up and hid, whilst all our deeds,
Even in self-defence, are marked as wrongs
Heaped on your blameless heads.
But to the point! Just as our brother's Seventeen
Council Fires
Unite for self-protection so do we.
How can you blame us, since your own example
Is but our model and fair precedent?
The Long-Knife's craft has kept our tribes apart,
Nourished dissensions, raised distinctions up,
Forced us to injuries which, soon as done,
Are made your vile pretexts for bloody war.
But this is past our nations now are one—
Ready to rise in their imbanded strength.
You promised to restore our ravaged lands
On proof that they are ours—that proof is here,
And by the tongues of truth has answered you.
Redeem your sacred pledges, and no more
Our "leaden birds" will sing amongst your corn:
But love will shine on you, and startled peace
Will come again, and build by every hearth.
Refuse—and we shall strike you to the ground!
Pour flame and slaughter on your confines wide,
Till the charred earth, up to the cope of Heaven,
Reeks with the smoke of smouldering villages,
And steam of awful fires half-quenched with blood.
[Citizens converse in undertones.]
TWANG. Did you ever hear the like! Ef I hed my shootin'- iron darn me ef I wouldn't draw a bead on thet barkin' savage. The hungry devil gits under-holts on our Guvner every time.
SLAUGH. You bet! I reckon he'd better put a lump o' bacon in his mouth to keep his bilin' sap o' passion down.
BLOAT. Thet's mor'n I'd do. This is jest what we git for allowin' the skulkin' devils to live. I'd vittle 'em on lead pills ef I was Guvner.
TWANG. Thet's so! Our civilizashun is jest this—we know what's what. Ef I hed my way—
HARRISON. Silence, you fools! If you provoke him here your blood be on your heads.
GERKIN. Right you air, Guvner! We'll close our dampers.
TECUMSEH. My brother's ears have heard. Where is his tongue?
HARRISON. My honest ears ache in default of reason.
Tecumseh is reputed wise, yet now
His fuming passions from his judgment fly,
Like roving steeds which gallop from the catch,
And kick the air, wasting in wantonness
More strength than in submission. His threats fall
On fearless ears. Knows he not of our force,
Which in the East swarms like mosquitoes here?
Our great Kentucky and Virginia fires?
Our mounted men and soldier-citizens?
These all have stings—let him beware of them!
TECUMSEH. Who does not know your vaunting citizens!
Well drilled in fraud and disciplined in crime;
But in aught else—as honor, justice, truth—
A rabble, and a base disordered herd.
We know them; and our nations, knit in one,
Will challenge them, should this, our last appeal,
Fall on unheeding ears. My brother, hearken!
East of Ohio you possess our lands,
Thrice greater than your needs, but west of it
We claim them all; then, let us make its flood
A common frontier, and a sacred stream
Of which our nations both may drink in peace.
HARRISON. Absurd! The treaties of Fort Wayne must
stand.
Your village chiefs are heads of civil rule,
Whose powers you seek to centre in yourself,
Or vest in warriors whose trade is blood.
We bought from those, and from your peaceful men—
Your wiser brothers—who had faith in us.
TECUMSEH. Poor, ruined brothers, weaned from honest lives!
HARRISON. They knew our wisdom, and preferred to sell
Their cabins, fields, and wilds of unused lands
For rich reserves and ripe annuities.
As for your nations being one like ours—
'Tis false—else would they speak one common tongue.
Nay, more! your own traditions trace you here—
Widespread in lapse of ages through the land—
From o'er the mighty ocean of the West.
What better title have you than ourselves,
Who came from o'er the ocean of the East,
And meet with you on free and common ground?
Be reasonable, and let wisdom's words
Displace your passion, and give judgment vent
Think more of bounty, and talk less of rights—
Our hands are full of gifts, our hearts of love.
TECUMSEH. My brother's love is like the trader's
warmth—
O'er with the purchase. Oh, unhappy lives—
Our gifts which go for yours! Once we were strong.
Once all this mighty continent was ours,
And the Great Spirit made it for our use.
He knew no boundaries, so had we peace
In the vast shelter of His handiwork,
And, happy here, we cared not whence we came.
We brought no evils thence—no treasured hate,
No greed of gold, no quarrels over God;
And so our broils, to narrow issues joined,
Were soon composed, and touched the ground of peace.
Our very ailments, rising from the earth,
And not from any foul abuse in us,
Drew back, and let age ripen to death's hand.
Thus flowed our lives until your people came,
Till from the East our matchless misery came!
Since then our tale is crowded with your crimes,
With broken faith, with plunder of reserves—
The sacred remnants of our wide domain—
With tamp'rings, and delirious feasts of fire,
The fruit of your thrice-cursed stills of death,
Which make our good men bad, our bad men worse,
Aye! blind them till they grope in open day,
And stumble into miserable graves.
Oh, it is piteous, for none will hear!
There is no hand to help, no heart to feel,
No tongue to plead for us in all your land.
But every hand aims death, and every heart,
Ulcered with hate, resents our presence here;
And every tongue cries for our children's land
To expiate their crime of being born.
Oh, we have ever yielded in the past,
But we shall yield no more! Those plains are ours!
Those forests are our birth-right and our home!
Let not the Long-Knife build one cabin there—
Or fire from it will spread to every roof,
To compass you, and light your souls to death!
HARRISON. Dreams he of closing up our empty plains?
Our mighty forests waiting for the axe?
Our mountain steeps engrailed with iron and gold?
There's no asylumed madness like to this!
Mankind shall have its wide possession here;
And these rough assets of a virgin world
Stand for its coming, and await its hand.
The poor of every land shall come to this,
Heart-full of sorrows and shall lay them down.
LEFROY. (Springing to his feet.) The poor!
What care your rich thieves for the poor?
Those graspers hate the poor, from whom they spring,
More deeply than they hate this injured race.
Much have they taken from it—let them now
Take this prediction, with the red man's curse!
The time will come when that dread power—the Poor—
Whom, in their greed and pride of wealth, they spurn—
Will rise on them, and tear them from their seats;
Drag all their vulgar splendours down, and pluck
Their shallow women from their lawless beds,
Yea, seize their puling and unhealthy babes,
And fling them as foul pavement to the streets.
In all the dreaming of the Universe
There is no darker vision of despairs!
1ST OFFICER. What man is that? 'Tis not an Indian.
HARRISON. Madman, you rave!—you know not what you say.
TECUMSEH. Master of guile, this axe should speak for him!
[Drawing his hatchet as if to hurl it at HARRISON.]
2ND OFFICER. This man means mischief! Quick! Bring up the guard!
[GENERAL HARRISON and officers draw their swords. The warriors spring to their feet and cluster about TECUMSEH, their eyes fixed intently upon HARRISON, who stands unmoved. TWANG and his friends disappear. The soldiers rush forward and take aim, but are ordered not to fire.]
END OF SECOND ACT.
ACT III.
SCENE FIRST.—VINCENNES.—A COUNCIL CHAMBER IN GENERAL HARRISON'S HOUSE.
Enter HARRISON and five COUNCILLORS.
HARRISON. Here are despatches from the President,
As well as letters from my trusted friends,
Whose tenor made me summon you to Council.
[Placing papers on table.]
1ST COUNCILLOR. Why break good news so gently? Is it true War is declared 'gainst England?
HARRISON. Would it were! That war is still deferred.
Our news is draff, And void of spirit, since New
England turns
A fresh cheek to the slap of Britain's palm.
Great God! I am amazed at such supineness.
Our trade prohibited, our men impressed,
Our flag insulted—still her people bend,
Amidst the ticking of their wooden clocks,
Bemused o'er small inventions. Out upon't!
Such tame submission yokes not with my spirit,
And sends my southern blood into my cheeks,
As proxy for New England's sense of shame.
2ND COUNCILLOR. We all see, save New England, what to
do;
But she has eyes for her one interest—
A war might sink it. So the way to war
Puzzles imagining.
HARRISON. There is a way
Which lies athwart the President's command.
The reinforcements asked for from Monroe
Are here at last, but with this strict injunction,
They must not be employed save in defence,
Or in a forced attack.
[Taking up a letter.]
Now, here is news, Fresh from the South, of bold
Tecumseh's work,
The Creeks and Seminoles have conjoined,
Which means a general union of the tribes,
And ravage of our Southern settlements.
Tecumseh's master hand is seen in this,
And these fresh tidings tally with his threats
Before he left Vincennes.
3RD COUNCILLOR. You had a close Encounter with him here.
HARRISON. Not over close, Nor dangerous—I saw he would
not strike.
His thoughts outran his threats, and looked beyond
To wider fields and trials of our strength.
4TH COUNCILLOR. Our tree is now too bulky for his axe.
HARRISON. Don't underrate his power! But for our States
This man would found an empire to surpass
Old Mexico's renown, or rich Peru.
Allied with England, he is to be feared
More than all other men.
1ST COUNCILLOR. You had some talk In private, ere he vanished to the South?
HARRISON. Mere words, yet ominous. Could we restore
Our purchases, and make a treaty line,
All might be well; but who would stand to it?
2ND COUNCILLOR. It is not to be thought of.
OTHER COUNCILLORS. No, no, no.
HARRISON. In further parley at the river's edge,
Scenting a coming war, he clapped his hands,
And said the English whooped his people on,
As if his braves were hounds to spring at us;
Compared our nation to a whelming flood,
And called his scheme a dam to keep it back—
Then proffered the old terms; whereat I urged
A peaceful mission to the President.
But, by apt questions, gleaning my opinion,
Ere I was ware, of such a bootless trip,
He drew his manly figure up, then smiled,
And said our President might drink his wine
In safety in his distant town, whilst we—
Over the mountains here—should fight it out:
Then entering his bark, well-manned with braves,
Bade me let matters rest till he returned
From his far mission to the distant tribes,
Waved an adieu, and, in a trice, was gone.
2ND COUNCILLOR. Your news is but an earnest of his work.
4TH COUNCILLOR. This Chief's dispatch should be our own
example.
Let matters rest, forsooth, till he can set
Our frontier in a blaze! Such cheap advice
Pulls with the President's, not mine.
HARRISON. Nor mine! The sum of my advice is to attack
The Prophet ere Tecumseh can return.
5TH COUNCILLOR. But what about the breach of your instructions?
HARRISON. If we succeed we need not fear the breach—
In the same space we give and heal the wound.
[Enter a Messenger, who hands letters to HARRISON.]
Thank you, Missouri and good Illinois—
Your governors are built of western clay.
Howard and Edwards both incline with me,
And urge attack upon the Prophet's force.
This is the nucleus of Tecumseh's strength—
His bold scheme's very heart. Let's cut it out.
Yes! yes! and every other part will fail.
1ST COUNCILLOR. Let us prepare to go at once!
2ND COUNCILLOR. Agreed.
3RD COUNCILLOR. I vote for war.
5TH COUNCILLOR. But should the Prophet win?
4TH COUNCILLOR. Why then, the Prophet, not Tecumseh, kills us— Which has the keener axe?
1ST COUNCILLOR. Breech-clouted dogs! Let us attack them, and, with thongs of fire, Whip their red bodies to a deeper red.
HARRISON. This feeling bodes success, and with success
Comes war with England; for a well-won fight
Will rouse a martial spirit in the land
To emulate our deeds on higher ground.
Now hasten to your duties and prepare:
Bronzed autumn comes, when copper-colored oaks
Drop miserly their stiff leaves to the earth;
And ere the winter's snow doth silver them,
Our triumph must be wrought.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE SECOND.—TECUMSEH'S CABIN IN THE PROPHET'S TOWN.
[Enter IENA and MAMATEE, agitated.]
IENA. My heart is sad, and I am faint with fear.
My friend, my more than mother, go again—
Plead with the Prophet for a single day!
Perchance within his gloomy heart will stir
Some sudden pulse of pity for a girl.
MAMATEE. Alas, my Iena, it is in vain!
He swore by Manitou this very morn,
That thou should'st wed the chief, Tarhay, to-night.
IENA. Nay try once more, Oh Mamatee, once more!
I had a dream, and heard the gusty breeze
Hurtle from out a sea of hissing pines,
Then dwindle into voices, faint and sweet,
Which cried—we come! It was my love and yours!
They spoke to me—I know that they are near,
And waft their love to us upon the wind.
MAMATEE. Some dreams are merely fancies in our sleep:
I'll make another trial, but I feel
Your only safety is in instant flight.
IENA. Flight! Where and how—beset by enemies?
My fear sits like the partridge in the tree,
And cannot fly whilst these dogs bark at me.
SCENE THIRD.—AN ELEVATED PLATEAU, DOTTED WITH HEAVY OAKS, WEST OF THE PROPHET'S TOWN.
Enter three of HARRISON'S staff Officers.
1ST OFFICER. Well, here's the end of all our northward marching!
2ND OFFICER. A peaceful end, if we can trust those chiefs Who parleyed with us lately.
3RD OFFICER. Yes, for if They mean to fight, why point us to a spot At once so strong and pleasant for our camp?
1ST OFFICER. Report it so unto our General!
[Exit 3RD OFFICER.]
'Tis worth our long march through the forest wild
To view these silent plains! The Prophet's Town,
Sequestered yonder like a hermitage,
Disturbs not either's vast of solitude,
But rather gives, like graveyard visitors,
To deepest loneliness a deeper awe.
[Re enter 3RD OFFICER.]
3RD OFFICER. I need not go, for Harrison is here.
[Enter GENERAL HARRISON, his force following.]
1ST OFFICER. Methinks you like the place; some thanks we owe Unto the Prophet's chiefs for good advice.
HARRISON. (Looking around keenly).
These noble oaks, the streamlet to our rear,
This rank wild grass—wood, water and soft beds!
The soldier's luxuries are here together.
1ST OFFICER. Note, too, the place o'erlooks the springy
plain
Which lies betwixt us and the Prophet's Town.
I think, sir, 'tis a very fitting place.
HARRISON. A fitting place if white men were our foes;
But to the red it gives a clear advantage.
Sleep like the weasel here, if you are wise!
1ST OFFICER. Why, sir, their chiefs, so menacing at
first,
Became quite friendly at the last. They fear
A battle, and will treat on any terms.
The Prophet's tide of strength will ebb away,
And leave his stranded bark upon the mire.
HARRISON. 'Tis the mixed craft of old dissembling
Nature!
If I could look upon her smallest web,
And see in it but crossed and harmless hairs,
Then might I trust the Prophet's knotted seine.
I did not like the manner of those chiefs
Who spoke so fairly. What but highest greatness
Plucks hatred from its seat, and in its stead
Plants friendship in an instant? This our camp
Is badly placed; each coulee and ravine
Is dangerous cover for approach by night;
And all the circuit of the spongy plain
A treacherous bog to mire our cavalry.
They who directed us so warmly here
Had other than our comfort in their eye.
2ND OFFICER. Fear you a night-attack, sir?
HARRISON. Fear it! No! I but anticipate, and shall
prepare.
'Tis sunset, and too late for better choice,
Else were the Prophet welcome to his ground.
Pitch tents and draw our baggage to the centre;
Girdle the camp with lynx-eyed sentinels;
Detail strong guards of choice and wakeful men
As pickets in advance of all oar lines;
Place mounted riflemen on both our flanks;
Our cavalry take post in front and rear,
But still within the lines of infantry,
Which, struck at any point, must hold the ground
Until relieved. Cover your rifle pans—
The thick clouds threaten rain. I look to you
To fill these simple orders to the letter.
But stay! Let all our camp fires burn
Till, if attacked, we form—then drown them out.
The darkness falls—make disposition straight;
Then, all who can, to sleep upon their arms.
I fear me, ere night yields to morning pale,
The warriors' yell will sound our wild reveille.
SCENE FOURTH.—TECUMSEH'S CABIN.
Enter IENA.
IENA. Tis night, and Mamatee is absent still!
Why should this sorrow weigh upon my heart,
And other lonely things on earth have rest?
Oh, could I be with them! The lily shone
All day upon the stream, and now it sleeps
Under the wave in peace—in cradle soft
Which sorrow soon may fashion for my grave.
Ye shadows which do creep into my thoughts—
Ye curtains of despair! what is my fault,
That ye should hide the happy earth from me?
Once I had joy of it, when tender Spring,
Mother of beauty, hid me in her leaves;
When Summer led me by the shores of song,
And forests and far-sounding cataracts
Melted my soul with music. I have heard
The rough chill harpings of dismantled woods,
When Fall had stripped them, and have felt a joy
Deeper than ear could lend unto the heart;
And when the Winter from his mountains wild
Looked down on death, and, in the frosty sky,
The very stars seemed hung with icicles,
Then came a sense of beauty calm and cold,
That weaned me from myself, yet knit me still
With kindred bonds to Nature. All is past,
And he—who won from me such love for him,
And he—my valiant uncle and my friend,
Comes not to lift the cloud that drapes my soul,
And shield me from the fiendish Prophet's power.
[Enter MAMATEE.]
Give me his answer in his very words!
MAMATEE. There is a black storm raging in his mind—
His eye darts lightning like the angry cloud
Which hangs in woven darkness o'er the earth.
Brief is his answer—you must go to him.
The Long-Knife's camp fires gleam among the oaks
Which dot yon western hill. A thousand men
Are sleeping there cajoled to fatal dreams
By promises the Prophet breaks to-night. Hark! 'tis the
war-song.
IENA. Dares the Prophet now
Betray Tecumseh's trust, and break his faith?
MAMATEE. He dares do anything will feed ambition.
His dancing braves are frenzied by his tongue,
Which prophesies revenge and victory.
Before the break of day he will surprise
The Long-Knife's camp, and hang our people's fate
Upon a single onset.
IENA. Should he fail?
MAMATEE. Then all will fail;—Tecumseh's scheme will fail.
IENA. It shall not! Let us go to him at once!
MAMATEE. And risk your life?
IENA. Risk hovers everywhere
When night and man combine for darksome deeds.
I'll go to him, and argue on my knees—
Yea, yield my hand—would I could give my heart!
To stay his purpose and this act of ruin.
MAMATEE. He is not in the mood for argument
Rash girl! they die who would oppose him now.
IENA. Such death were sweet as life—I go!
But, first—Great Spirit! I commit my soul to Thee.
[Kneels.]
SCENE FIFTH.—AN OPEN SPACE IN THE FOREST NEAR THE PROPHET'S TOWN. A FIRE OF BILLETS BURNING. WAR CRIES ARE HEARD FROM THE TOWN.
Enter the PROPHET.
PROPHET. My spells do work apace! Shout yourselves
hoarse,
Ye howling ministers by whom I climb!
For this I've wrought until my weary tongue,
Blistered with incantation, flags in speech,
And half declines its office. Every brave
Inflamed by charms and oracles, is now
A vengeful serpent, who will glide ere morn
To sting the Long-Knife's sleeping camp to death.
Why should I hesitate? My promises!
My duty to Tecumseh! What are these
Compared with duty here? Where I perceive
A near advantage, there my duty lies;
Consideration strong which overweighs
All other reason. Here is Harrison—
Trepanned to dangerous lodgment for the night—
Each deep ravine which grooves the prairie's breast
A channel of approach; each winding creek
A screen for creeping death. Revenge is sick
To think of such advantage flung aside. For what?
To let Tecumseh's greatness grow,
Who gathers his rich harvest of renown
Out of the very fields that I have sown!
By Manitou, I will endure no more!
Nor, in the rising flood of our affairs,
Fish like an osprey for this eagle longer.
But, soft!
It is the midnight hour when comes
Tarhay to claim his bride, (calls) Tarhay!
Tarhay!
[Enter TARHAY with several braves.]
TARHAY. Tarhay is here!
PROPHET. The Long-Knives die to-night.
The spirits which do minister to me
Have breathed this utterance within my ear.
You know my sacred office cuts me off
From the immediate leadership in fight.
My nobler work is in the spirit-world,
And thence come promises which make us strong.
Near to the foe I'll keep the Magic Bowl,
Whilst you, Tarhay, shall lead our warriors on.
TARHAY. I'll lead them; they are wild with eagerness.
But fill my cold and empty cabin first
With light and heat! You know I love your niece,
And have the promise of her hand to-night.
PROPHET. She shall be yours!
(To the braves)
Go bring her here at once—But, look! Fulfilment of my
promise comes
In her own person.
Enter IENA and MAMATEE.
Welcome, my sweet niece! You have forestalled my message by these braves, And come unbidden to your wedding place.
IENA. Uncle! you know my heart is far away—
PROPHET. But still your hand is here! this little hand! (Pulling her forward)
IENA. Dare you enforce a weak and helpless girl,
Who thought to move you by her misery?
Stand back! I have a message for you too.
What means the war-like song, the dance of braves,
And bustle in our town?
PROPHET. It means that we
Attack the foe to-night.
IENA. And risk our all?
O that Tecumseh knew! his soul would rush
In arms to intercept you. What! break faith,
And on the hazard of a doubtful strife,
Stake his great enterprise and all our lives!
The dying curses of a ruined race
Will wither up your wicked heart for this!
PROPHET. False girl! your heart is with our foes;
Your hand I mean to turn to better use.
IENA. Oh, could it turn you from your mad intent
How freely would I give it! Drop this scheme,
Dismiss your frenzied warriors to their beds;
And, if contented with my hand, Tarhay
Can have it here.
TARHAY. I love you, Iena!
IENA. Then must you love what I do! Love our race!
'Tis this love nerves Tecumseh to unite
Its scattered tribes—his fruit of noble toil,
Which you would snatch unripened from his hand,
And feed to sour ambition. Touch it not—
Oh, touch it not Tarhay! and though my heart
Breaks for it, I am yours.
PROPHET. His anyway,
Or I am not the Prophet!
TARHAY. For my part I have no leaning to this rash
attempt,
Since Iena consents to be my wife.
PROPHET. Shall I be thwarted by a yearning fool!
(Aside.)
This soft, sleek girl, to outward seeming good,
I know to be a very fiend beneath—
Whose sly affections centre on herself,
And feed the gliding snake within her heart.
TARHAY. I cannot think her so—
MAMATEE. She is not so!
There is the snake that creeps among our race;
Whose venomed fangs would bite into our lives,
And poison all our hopes.
PROPHET. She is the head—
The very neck of danger to me here,
Which I must break at once! (aside)
Tarhay—attend! I can see dreadful visions in the air;
I can dream awful dreams of life and fate;
I can bring darkness on the heavy earth;
I can fetch shadows from our fathers' graves,
And spectres from the sepulchres of hell
Who dares dispute with me, disputes with death! Dost
hear, Tarhay?
[TARHAY and braves cower before the PROPHET.]
TARHAY. I hear, and will obey. Spare me! Spare me!
PROPHET. As for this foolish girl,
The hand she offers you on one condition,
I give to you upon a better one;
And, since she has no mind to give her heart
Which, rest assured, is in her body stity
There,—take it at my hands!
Flings IENA violently toward TARHAY, into whose arms she falls fainting, and is then borne away by MAMATEE.
(To TARHAY.) Go bring the braves to view the
Mystic Torch
And belt of Sacred Beans grown from my flesh
One touch of it makes them invulnerable
Then creep, like stealthy panthers, on the foe!
SCENE SIXTH.—MORNING. THE FIELD OF TIPPECANOE AFTER THE BATTLE. THE GROUND STREWN WITH DEAD SOLDIERS AND WARRIORS.
Enter HARRISON, officers and soldiers and BARRON.
HARRISON. A costly triumph reckoned by our slain!
Look how some lie still clenched with savages
In all-embracing death, their bloody hands
Glued in each other's hair! Make burial straight
Of all alike in deep and common graves:
Their quarrel now is ended.
1ST OFFICER. I have heard.
The red man fears our steel—'twas not so here;
From the first shots, which drove our pickets in,
Till daylight dawned they rushed upon our lines,
And flung themselves upon our bayonet points
In frenzied recklessness of bravery.
BARRON. They trusted in the Prophet's rites and spells,
Which promised them immunity from death.
All night he sat on yon safe eminence,
Howling his songs of war and mystery,
Then fled, at dawn, in fear of his own braves.
[Enter an AIDE]
HARRISON. What tidings bring you from the Prophet's
Town?
AIDE. The wretched women with their children fly
To distant forests for concealment. In
Their village is no living thing save mice
Which scampered as we oped each cabin door.
Their pots still simmered on the vacant hearths,
Standing in dusty silence and desertion.
Naught else we saw, save that their granaries
Were crammed with needful corn.
HARRISON. Go bring it all—
Then burn their village down!
[Exit AIDE.]
2ND OFFICER. This victory
Will shake Tecumseh's project to the base
Were I the Prophet I should drown myself
Rather than meet him.
BARRON. We have news of him—
Our scouts report him near in heavy force.
HARRISON. 'Twill melt or draw across the British line,
And wait for war. But double the night watch,
Lest he should strike, and give an instant care
To all our wounded men: to-morrow's sun
Must light us on our backward march for home
Thence Rumour's tongue will spread so proud a story
New England will grow envious of our glory;
And, greedy for renown so long abhorred,
Will on old England draw the tardy sword!
SCENE SEVENTH.—THE RUINS OF THE PROPHET'S TOWN.
[Enter the PROPHET, who gloomily surveys the place.]
PROPHET. Our people scattered, and our town in ashes!
To think these hands could work such madness here—
This envious head devise this misery!
Tecumseh, had not my ambition drawn
Such sharp and fell destruction on our race
You might have smiled at me! for I have matched
My cunning 'gainst your wisdom, and have dragged
Myself and all into a sea of ruin.
[Enter TECUMSEH.]
TECUMSEH. Devil! I have discovered you at last!
You sum of treacheries, whose wolfish fangs
Have torn our people's flesh—you shall not live!
[The PROPHET retreats facing and followed by TECUMSEH.]
PROPHET. Nay—strike me not! I can explain it all!
It was a woman touched the Magic Bowl,
And broke the brooding spell.
TECUMSEH. Impostor! Slave! Why should I spare you?
[Lifts his hand as if to strike.]
PROPHET. Stay, stay, touch me not!
One mother bore us in the self-same hour.
TECUMSEH. Then good and evil came to light together.
Go to the corn-dance, change your name to villain!
Away! Your presence tempts my soul to mischief.
[Exit the PROPHET hastily.]
Would that I were a woman, and could weep,
And slake hot rage with tears! O spiteful fortune,
To lure me to the limit of my dreams,
Then turn and crowd the ruin of my toil
Into the narrow compass of a night.
My brother's deep disgrace—myself the scorn
Of envious harriers and thieves of fame,
Who fain would rob me of the lawful meed
Of faithful services and duties done—
Oh, I could bear it all! But to behold
Our ruined people hunted to their graves—
To see the Long-Knife triumph in their shame—
This is the burning shaft, the poisoned wound
That rankles in my soul! But, why despair?
All is not lost—the English are our friends.
My spirit rises—manhood bear me up!
I'll haste to Malden, join my force to theirs,
And fall with double fury on our foes.
Farewell ye plains and forests, but rejoice!
Ye yet shall echo to Tecumseh's voice.
[Enter LEFROY.]
LEFROY. What tidings have you gleaned of Iena?
TECUMSEH. My brother meant to wed her to Tarhay—
The chief who led his warriors to ruin;
But, in the gloom and tumult of the night,
She fled into the forest all alone.
LEFROY. Alone! In the wide forest all alone!
Angels are with her now, for she is dead.
TECUMSEH. You know her to be skilful with the bow.
'Tis certain she would strike for some great Lake—
Erie or Michigan. At the Detroit
Are people of our nation, and perchance
She fled for shelter there. I go at once
To join the British force.
[Exit TECUMSEH.]
LEFROY. But yesterday I climbed to Heaven upon the
shining stairs
Of love and hope, and here am quite cast down.
My little flower amidst a weedy world,
Where art thou now? In deepest forest shade?
Or onward, where the sumach stands arrayed
In Autumn splendour, its alluring form
Fruited, yet odious with the hidden worm?
Or, farther, by some still sequestered lake,
Loon-haunted, where the sinewy panthers slake
Their noon-day thirst, and never voice is heard
Joyous of singing waters, breeze or bird,
Save their wild waitings.—(A halloo without)
'Tis Tecumseh calls! Oh Iena! If dead, where'er thou
art—
Thy saddest grave will be this ruined heart!
[Exit.]
END OF THIRD ACT.
ACT IV.
Enter CHORUS.
War is declared, unnatural and wild,
By Revolution's calculating sons!
So leave the home of mercenary minds,
And wing with me, in your uplifted thoughts,
Away to our unyielding Canada!
There to behold the Genius of the Land,
Beneath her singing pine and sugared tree,
Companioned with the lion, Loyalty.
SCENE FIRST.—A ROOM IN FORT GEORGE.
[Enter GENERAL BROCK reading a despatch from Montreal.]
BROCK. Prudent and politic Sir George Prevost!
Hull's threatened ravage of our western coast,
Hath more breviloquence than your despatch.
Storms are not stilled by reasoning with air,
Nor fires quenched by a syrup of sweet words.
So to the wars, Diplomacy, for now
Our trust is in our arms and arguments
Delivered only from the cannon's mouth!
[Rings.]
[Enter an ORDERLY. ]
ORDERLY. Your Exc'llency?
BROCK. Bid Colonel Proctor come!
[Exit Orderly.]
Now might the head of gray Experience
Shake o'er the problems that surround us here.
I am no stranger to the brunt of war,
But all the odds so lean against our side
That valour's self might tremble for the issue,
Could England stretch its full, assisting hand
Then might I smile though velvet-footed time
Struck all his claws at once into our flesh;
But England, noble England, fights for life,
Couching the knightly lance for liberty
'Gainst a new dragon that affrights the world.
And, now, how many noisome elements
Would plant their greed athwart this country's good!
How many demagogues bewray its cause!
How many aliens urge it to surrender!
Our present good must match their present ill,
And, on our frontiers, boldest deeds in war,
Dismay the foe, and strip the loins of faction.
[Enter COLONEL PROCTOR. ]
Time waits not our conveniency; I trust
Your preparations have no further needs.
PROCTOR. All is in readiness, and I can leave
For Amherstburg at once.
BROCK. Then tarry not,
For time is precious to us now as powder.
You understand my wishes and commands?
PROCTOR. I know them and shall match them with obedience.
BROCK. Rest not within the limit of instructions
If you can better them, for they should bind
The feeble only; able men enlarge
And shape them to their needs. Much must be done
That lies in your discretion. At Detroit
Hull vaunts his strength, and meditates invasion,
And loyalty, unarmed, defenceless, bare,
May let this boaster light upon our shores
Without one manly motion of resistance.
So whilst I open Parliament at York,
Close it again, and knit our volunteers,
Be yours the task to head invasion off.
Act boldly, but discreetly, and so draw
Our interest to the balance, that affairs
May hang in something like an even scale,
Till I can join you with a fitting force,
And batter this old Hull until he sinks.
So fare-you-well—success attend your mission!
PROCTOR. Farewell, sir! I shall do my best in this,
And put my judgment to a prudent use
In furtherance of all.
[Exit PROCTOR.]
BROCK. Prudent he will be—'tis a vice in him.
For in the qualities of every mind
There's one o'ergrows, and prudence in this man
Tops all the rest. 'Twill suit our present needs.
But, boldness, go with me! for, if I know
My nature well, I shall do something soon
Whose consequence will make the nation cheer,
Or hiss me to my grave.
[Re-enter ORDERLY. ]
ORDERLY. Your Exc'llency,
Some settlers wait without.
BROCK. Whence do they come?
[Enter COLONEL MACDONELL.]
ORDERLY. From the raw clearings up Lake Erie, Sir.
BROCK. Go bring them here at once. [Exit
ORDERLY.] The very men Who meanly shirk their service
to the crown!
A breach of duty to be remedied,
For disaffection like an ulcer spreads
Until the caustic ointment of the law,
Sternly applied, eats up and stays corruption.
[(Enter DEPUTATION OF YANKEE SETTLERS).]
Good morrow, worthy friends; I trust you bear
Good hopes in loyal hearts for Canada.
1ST SETTLER. That kind o' crop's a failure in our
county.
Gen'ral, we came to talk about this war
With the United States. It ain't quite fair
To call out settlers from the other side.
BROCK. From it yet on it too! Why came you thence?
Is land so scarce in the United States?
Are there no empty townships, wilds or wastes
In all their borders but you must encroach
On ours? And, being here, how dare you make
Your dwelling-places harbours of sedition
And furrow British soil with alien ploughs
To feed our enemies? There is not scope,
Not room enough in all this wilderness
For men so base.
2ND SETTLER. Why, General, we thought You wanted settlers here.
BROCK. Settlers indeed
But with the soldier's courage to defend
The land of their adoption. This attack
On Canada is foul and unprovoked;
The hearts are vile, the hands are traitorous
That will not help to hurl invasion back.
Beware the lariat of the law! 'Tis thrown
With aim so true in Canada it brings
Sedition to the ground at every cast.
1ST SETTLER. Well, General, we're not your British
sort,
But if we were we know that Canada
Is naught compared with the United States.
We have no faith in her, but much in them.
BROCK. You have no faith! Then take a creed from me!
For I believe in Britain's Empire, and
In Canada, its true and loyal son,
Who yet shall rise to greatness, and shall stand
At England's shoulder helping her to guard
True liberty throughout a faithless world.
Here is a creed for arsenals and camps,
For hearts and heads that seek their country's good;
So, go at once, and meditate on it!
I have no time to parley with you now—
But think on this as well! that traitors, spies,
And aliens who refuse to take up arms,
Forfeit their holdings, and must leave this land,
Or dangle nearer Heaven than they wish.
So to your homes, and ponder your condition.
[Exeunt Settlers ruefully.]
This foreign element will hamper us.
Its alien spirit ever longs for change,
And union with the States.
MACDONELL. O fear it not,
Nor magnify the girth of noisy men!
Their name is faction, and their numbers few.
While everywhere encompassing them stands
The silent element that doth not change;
That points with steady finger to the Crown—
True as the needle to the viewless pole,
And stable as its star!
BROCK. I know it well,
And trust to it alone for earnestness,
Accordant counsels, loyalty and faith.
But give me these—and let the Yankees come!
With our poor handful of inhabitants,
We can defend our forest wilderness,
And spurn the bold invader from our shores.
[Re-enter ORDERLY.]
ORDERLY. Your boat is ready, sir!
BROCK. Man it at once—I shall forthwith to York.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE SECOND.—YORK THE CAPITAL OF UPPER CANADA. THE SPACE IN FRONT OF OLD GOVERNMENT HOUSE.
[Enter two U. E. LOYALISTS, separately.]
1ST U.E. LOYALIST. Well met, my friend! A stirrer like myself.
2ND U. E. LOYALIST. Yes, affairs make me so. Such stirring times Since Brock returned and opened Parliament! Read you his speech?
1ST U. E. LOYALIST. That from the Throne?
2ND U.E. LOYALIST. Ay, that!
1ST U.E. LOYALIST. You need not ask, since 'tis on
every tongue,
Unstaled by repetition. I affirm
Words never showered upon more fruitful soil
To nourish valour's growth.
2ND U. E. LOYALIST. That final phrase—
Oh it struck home: a sentence to be framed
And hung in every honourable heart
For daily meditation.
"We are engaged in an awful and eventful contest. By unanimity and dispatch in our councils, and by vigour in our operations, we may teach the enemy this lesson, that a country defended by free men, enthusiastically devoted to the cause of their king and constitution, can never be conquered."
1ST U. E. LOYALIST. That reaches far; a text to fortify
Imperial doctrine and Canadian rights.
Sedition skulks, and feels its blood a-cold,
Since first it fell upon the public ear.
2ND U. E. LOYALIST. There is a magic in this soldier's
tongue.
O language is a common instrument;
But when a master touches it—what sounds!
1ST U. E. LOYALIST. What sounds indeed!
But Brock can use his sword
Still better than his tongue. Our state affairs,
Conned and digested by his eager mind
Draw into form, and even now his voice
Cries, Forward! To the Front!
2ND U. E. LOYALIST. Look—here he comes!
1ST U.E. LOYALIST. There's matter in the wind; let's draw a-near.
[Enter GENERAL BROCK, accompanied by MACDONELL, NICHOL, ROBINSON and other Canadian Officers and friends conversing.]
BROCK. 'Tis true our Province faces heavy odds:
Of regulars but fifteen hundred men
To guard a frontier of a thousand miles;
Of volunteers what aidance we can draw
From seventy thousand widely scattered souls.
A meagre showing 'gainst the enemy's
If numbers be the test. But odds lie not
In numbers only, but in spirit too—
Witness the might of England's little isle!
And what made England great will keep her so—
The free soul and the valour of her sons;
And what exalts her will sustain you now
If you contain her courage and her faith.
So not the odds so much are to be feared
As private disaffection, treachery—
Those openers of the door to enemies—
And the poor crouching spirit that gives way
Ere it is forced to yield.
ROBINSON. No fear of that!
BROCK. I trust there is not; yet I speak of it
As what is to be feared more than the odds.
For like to forests are communities—
Fair at a distance, entering you find
The rubbish and the underbrush of states,
'Tis ever the mean soul that counts the odds,
And, where you find this spirit, pluck it up—
'Tis full of mischief.
MACDONELL. It is almost dead.
England's vast war, our weakness, and the eagle
Whetting his beak at Sandwich, with one claw
Already in our side, put thought to steep
In cold conjecture for a time, and gave
A text to alien tongues. But, since you came,
Depression turns to smiling, and men see
That dangers well-opposed may be subdued
Which shunned would overwhelm us.
BROCK. Hold to this!
For since the storm has struck us we must face it.
What is our present count of volunteers?
NICHOL. More than you called for have assembled, Sir—
The flower of York and Lincoln.
BROCK. Some will go
To guard our frontier at Niagara.
Which must be strengthened even at the cost
Of York itself. The rest to the Detroit,
Where, with Tecumseh's force, our regulars,
And Kent and Essex loyal volunteers,
We'll give this Hull a taste of steel so cold
His teeth will chatter at it, and his scheme
Of easy conquest vanish into air.
[Enter a COMPANY of MILITIA with their OFFICERS, unarmed. They salute, march across the stage, and make their exit.]
What men are those? Their faces are familiar.
ROBINSON. Some farmers whom you furloughed at Fort
George,
To tend their fields, which still they leave half-
reaped
To meet invasion.
BROCK. I remember it!
The jarring needs of harvest-time and war,
Twixt whose necessities grave hazards lay.
ROBINSON. They only thought to save their children's
bread,
And then return to battle with light hearts.
For, though their hard necessities o'erpoised
Their duty for the moment, these are men.
Who draw their pith from loyal roots, their sires,
Dug up by revolution, and cast out
To hovel in the bitter wilderness,
And wring, with many a tussle, from the wolf
Those very fields which cry for harvesters.
BROCK. O I observed them closely at Fort George—
Red-hot for action in their summer-sleeves,
And others drilling in their naked feet—
Our poor equipment (which disgraced us there)
Too scanty to go round. See they get arms,
An ample outfit and good quarters too.
NICHOL. They shall be well provided for in all.
[Enter COLONELS BABY [Footnote: Pronounced Baw- bee.] and ELLIOTT.]
BROCK. Good morning both; what news from home, Baby?
BABY. None, none your Excellency—whereat we fear
This Hull is in our rear at Amherstburg.
BROCK. Not yet; what I unsealed last night reports
Tecumseh to have foiled the enemy
In two encounters at the Canard bridge.
A noble fellow; as I hear, humane,
Lofty and bold and rooted in our cause.
BABY. I know him well; a chief of matchless force.
If Mackinaw should fall—that triple key
To inland seas and teeming wilderness—
The bravest in the west will flock to him.
BROCK. 'Twere well he had an inkling of affairs.
My letters say he chafes at my delay,
Not mine, but thine, thou dull and fatuous House—
Which, in a period that whips delay,
When men should spur themselves and flash in action,
Let'st idly leak the unpurchasable hours
From our scant measure of most precious time!
BABY. 'Tis true, Your Exc'llency, some cankered minds
Have been a daily hind'rance in our House.
No measure so essential, bill so fair,
But they would foul it by some cunning clause,
Wrenching the needed statute from its aim
By sly injection of their false opinion.
But this you cannot charge to us whose hearts
Are faithful to our trust; nor yet delay;
For, Exc'llency, you hurry on so fast
That other men wheeze after, out of breath,
And haste itself, disparaged, lags behind.
BROCK. Friends, pardon me, you stand not in reproof.
But haste, the evil of the age in peace,
Is war's auxiliary, confederate
With time himself in urgent great affairs.
So must we match it with the flying hours!
I shall prorogue this tardy Parliament,
And promptly head our forces for Detroit
Meanwhile, I wish you, in advance of us,
To speed unto your homes. Spread everywhere
Throughout the West, broad tidings of our coming,
Which, by the counter currents of reaction,
Will tell against our foes and for our friends.
As for the rest, such loyal men as you
Need not our counsel; so, good journey both!
BABY. We shall not spare our transport or ourselves.
[Enter a travel-stained MESSENGER.]
ELLIOTT. Good-bye.
BABY. Tarry a moment, Elliott! Here comes a messenger— let's have his news.
MESSENGER. It is his Excellency whom I seek. I come, sir, with despatches from the west.
BROCK. Tidings I trust to strengthen all our hopes.
MESSENGER. News of grave interest, this not the worst.
[Handing a letter to GENERAL BROCK.]
BROCK. No, by my soul, for Mackinaw is ours!
That vaunted fort, whose gallant capture frees
Our red allies. This is important news! What of
Detroit!
MESSENGER. Things vary little there.
Hull's soldiers scour our helpless settlements,
Our aliens join them, but the loyal mass—
Sullen, yet overawed, longs for relief.
BROCK. I hope to better this anon. You, sirs,
[To his aides.]
Come with me; here is matter to despatch
At once to Montreal. Farewell, my friends.
[To Baby and Elliott.]
BABY. We feel now what will follow this, farewell!
[Exeunt BABY, ELLIOTT and MESSENGER.]
BROCK. Now, gentlemen, prepare against our needs,
That no neglect may check us at the start,
Or mar our swift advance. And, for our cause,
As we believe it just in sight of God,
So should it triumph in the sight of man,
Whose generous temper, at the first, assigns
Right to the weaker side, yet coldly draws
Damning conclusions from its failure. Now
Betake you to your tasks with double zeal;
And, meanwhile, let our joyful tidings spread!
[Exeunt.]
SCENE THIRD.—THE SAME.
Enter two OLD MEN of York, severally.
1ST OLD MAN. Good morrow, friend! a fair and fitting
time
To take our airing, and to say farewell.
'Tis here, I think, we bid our friends God-speed,
A waftage, peraventure, to their graves.
2ND OLD MAN. 'Tis a good cause they die for, if they
fall
By this grey pate, if I were young again,
I would no better journey. Young again!
This hubbub sets old pulses on the bound
As I were in my teens.
Enter a CITIZEN.
What news afoot?
CITIZEN. Why everyone's afoot and coming here.
York's citizens are turned to warriors;
The learned professions go a-soldiering,
And gentle hearts beat high for Canada!
For, as you pass, on every hand you see,
Through the neglected openings of each house—
Through doorways, windows—our Canadian maids
Strained by their parting lovers to their breasts;
And loyal matrons busy round their lords,
Buckling their arms on, or, with tearful eyes,
Kissing them to the war!
1ST OLD MAN. The volunteers Will pass this way?
CITIZEN. Yes, to the beach, and there
Embark for Burlington, whence they will march
To Long Point, taking open boats again,
To plough the shallow Erie's treacherous flood.
Such leaky craft as farmers market with:
Rare bottoms, one sou-wester-driven wave
Would heave against Lake Erie's wall of shore,
And dash to fragments. 'Tis an awful hazard—
A danger which in apprehension lies,
Yet palpable unto the spirit's touch,
As earth to finger.
1ST OLD MAN. Let us hope a calm May lull this fretful and ill-tempered lake Whilst they ascend.
[Military music is heard.]
CITIZEN. Hark! here our soldiers come.
Enter GENERAL BROCK, with his aides, MACDONELL and GLEGG, NICHOL, and other Officers, followed by the Volunteers in companies. A concourse of citizens.
MACDONELL. Our fellows show the mark of training, sir,
And many, well in hand, yet full of fire,
Are burning for distinction.
BROCK. This is good: Love of distinction is the
fruitful soil
From which brave actions spring; and, superposed
On love of country, these strike deeper root,
And grow to greater greatness. Cry a halt—
A word here—then away!
[Flourish. The volunteers halt, form line, and order arms.]
Ye men of Canada! Subjects with me of that Imperial
Power
Whose liberties are marching round the earth:
I need not urge you now to follow me,
Though what befalls will try your stubborn faith
In the fierce fire and crucible of war.
I need not urge you, who have heard the voice
Of loyalty, and answered to its call.
Who has not read the insults of the foe—
The manifesto of his purposed crimes?
That foe, whose poison-plant, false-liberty,
Runs o'er his body politic and kills
Whilst seeming to adorn it, fronts us now!
Threats our poor Province to annihilate,
And should he find the red men by our side—
Poor injured souls, who but defend their own—
Calls black Extermination from its hell,
To stalk abroad, and stench your land with slaughter.
These are our weighty arguments for war,
Wherein armed justice will enclasp its sword,
And sheath it in its bitter adversary;
Wherein we'll turn our bayonet-points to pens,
And write in blood:—Here lies the poor invader;
Or be ourselves struck down by hailing death;
Made stepping-stones for foes to walk upon—
The lifeless gangways to our country's ruin.
For now we look not with the eye of fear;
We reck not if this strange mechanic frame—
Stop in an instant in the shock of war.
Our death may build into our country's life,
And failing this, 'twere better still to die
Than live the breathing spoils of infamy.
Then forward for our cause and Canada!
Forward for Britain's Empire—peerless arch
Of Freedom's raising, whose majestic span
Is axis to the world! On, on, my friends!
The task our country sets must we perform—
Wring peace from war, or perish in its storm!
[Excitement and leave-taking. The volunteers break into column and sing:]
O hark to the voice from the lips of the free!
O hark to the cry from the lakes to the sea!
Arm! arm! the invader is wasting our coasts,
And tainting the air of our land with his hosts.
Arise! then, arise! let us rally and form,
And rush like the torrent, and sweep like the storm,
On the foes of our King,—of our country adored,
Of the flag that was lost, but in exile restored!
And whose was the flag? and whose was the soil?
And whose was the exile, the suffering, the toil?
Our Fathers'! who carved in the forest a name,
And left us rich heirs of their freedom and fame.
Oh, dear to our hearts is that flag, and the land
Our Fathers bequeathed—'tis the work of their hand!
And the soil they redeemed from the woods with renown
The might of their sons will defend for the Crown!
Our hearts they are one, and our hands they are free,
From clime unto clime, and from sea unto sea!
And chaos will come to the States that annoy,
But our Empire united what foe can destroy?
Then away! to the front! march! comrades away!
In the lists of each hour crowd the work of a day!
We will follow our leader to fields far and nigh,
And for Canada fight, and for Canada die!
[Exeunt with military music.]