on the earth;
For I should treat our foes to
what they crave--
Our fruitful soil--yea, ram it down their throats,
And choke them with the very dirt they love.
'Tis you Tecumseh!
You, are here at last,
And welcome as the strong heat-bearing Spring
Which opens up the pathways of revenge.
What tidings from afar?
TECUMSEH. Good tidings thence.
I have not seen the Wyandots, but
all
The distant nations will unite with us
To spurn the fraudful
treaties of Fort Wayne.
From Talapoosa to the Harricanaw
I have
aroused them from their lethargy.
From the hot gulf up to those
confines rude,
Where Summer's sides are pierced with icicles,
They
stand upon my call. What tidings here?
PROPHET. No brand has struck to bark our enterprise
Which grows
on every side. The Prophet's robe,
That I assumed when old
Pengasega died--
With full accord and countenance from you--
Fits
a strong shoulder ampler far than his;
And all our people follow me in
fear.
TECUMSEH. Would that they followed you in love!
Proceed! My
ears are open to my brother's tongue.
PROPHET. I have myself, and by swift messengers,
Proclaimed to all
the nations far and near,
I am the Open-Door, and have the power
To lead them back to life. The sacred fire
Must burn forever in the
red-man's lodge,
Else will that life go out. All earthly goods
By the
Great Spirit meant for common use
Must so be held. Red shall not
marry white,
To lop our parent stems; and never more
Must vile,
habitual cups of deadliness
Distort their noble natures, and unseat
The purpose of their souls. They must return
To ancient customs; live
on game and maize;
Clothe them with skins, and love both wife and
child,
Nor lift a hand in wrath against their race.
TECUMSEH. These are wise counsels which are noised
afar,
And
many nations have adopted them
And made them law.
PROPHET. These counsels were your own!
Good in themselves, they
are too weak to sway
Our fickle race. I've much improved on them
Since the Great Spirit took me by the hand.
TECUMSEH. Improved! and how? Your mission was to lead
Our
erring people back to ancient ways--
Too long o'ergrown--not bloody
sacrifice.
They tell me that the prisoners you have ta'en--
Not
captives in fair fight, but wanderers
Bewildered in our woods, or such
as till
Outlying fields, caught from the peaceful plough--
You
cruelly have tortured at the stake.
Nor this the worst! In order to
augment
Your gloomy sway you craftily have played
Upon the zeal
and frenzy of our tribes,
And, in my absence, hatched a monstrous
charge
Of sorcery amongst them, which hath spared
Nor feeble age
nor sex. Such horrid deeds
Recoil on us! Old Shataronra's grave
Sends up its ghost, and Tetaboxti's hairs--
White with sad years and
counsel--singed by you!
In dreams and nightmares, float on every
breeze.
Ambition's madness might stop short of this,
And shall if I
have life.
PROPHET. The Great Spirit
Hath urged me, and still urges me to all.
He puts his hand to mine and leads me on.
Do you not hear him
whisper even now--
"Thou art the Prophet?" All our followers
Behold in me a greater than yourself,
And worship me, and venture
where I lead.
TECUMSEH. Your fancy is the common slip of fools,
Who count the
lesser greater being near.
Dupe of your own imposture and designs,
I cannot bind your thoughts! but what you do
Henceforth must be my
subject; so take heed,
And stand within my sanction lest you fall.
PROPHET. You are Tecumseh--else you should choke for
this!
[Haughtily crosses the stage and pauses.]
Stay! Let me think! I must not break with him--
'Tis premature. I
know his tender part,
And I shall touch it.
[Recrosses the stage.]
Brother, let me ask,
Do you remember how our father fell?
TECUMSEH. Who can forget Kanawha's bloody fray?
He died for
home in battle with the whites.
PROPHET. And you remember, too, that boyish morn,
When all our
braves were absent on the chase--
That morn when you and I
half-dreaming lay
In summer grass, but woke to deadly pain
Of
loud-blown bugles ringing through the air.
They came!--a rush of
chargers from the woods,
With tramplings, cursings, shoutings
manifold,
And headlong onset, fierce with brandished swords,
Of
frontier troopers eager for the fight.
Scarce could a lynx have
screened itself from sight,
So sudden the attack--yet, trembling there,
We crouched unseen, and saw our little town
Stormed, with vile
slaughter of small babe and crone,
And palsied grandsire--you
remember it?
TECUMSEH. Remember it! Alas, the echoing
Of that wild havoc
lingers in my brain!
O wretched age, and injured motherhood,
And
hapless maiden-wreck!
PROPHET. Yet this has been
Our endless history, and it is this
Which crams my very veins with cruelty.
My pulses bound to see
those devils fall
Brained to the temples, and their women cast
As
offal to the wolf.
TECUMSEH. Their crimes are great--
Our wrongs unspeakable! yet
my revenge
Is open war. It never shall be said
Tecumseh's hate
went armed with cruelty.
There's reason in revenge; but spare our
own!
These gloomy sacrifices sap our strength;
And henceforth
from your wizard scrutinies
I charge you to forbear. But who's the
white
You hold as captive?
PROPHET. He is called LEFROY--
A captive, but too free to come
and go.
Our
![](qr/25762/2.png)
Continue reading on your phone by scaning this QR Code
Tip: The current page has been bookmarked automatically. If you wish to continue reading later, just open the
Dertz Homepage, and click on the 'continue reading' link at the bottom of the page.