Part 8
If the reader will follow the lines of the accompanying diagram, tracing from left, he will see that the long line of dancers, as they pass around the poles, appears to be coming and going, sometimes three and four abreast, but all in such symmetrical motion that the dance is very beautiful, coupled with the grace and modesty of innocence, with an accompaniment of singing strangely sweet.
The various dances of these people show how close they live to nature. As they move to the rhythmical cadence of the owl song, we hear “Waugh-ho-ooo-whoo whoo,” of the great horned owl; then the penewa, or wild turkey dance, with its notes of the gobbling bird; and so on with many others.
A feature of the dance, and one that might be commended, is that those who dance must work or hunt. Each morning of the festival every member of the camp, down to the wee child, must hunt, leaving the camp by daybreak and hunting till twelve o’clock noon. The men hunt large game; the boys go for rabbits, birds and squirrels; while the women hunt the hogs and dig potatoes, and the very small children “hunt” water, and bring in sticks of wood. To their white friends, they said, “Dance to-night?” This was intended for an invitation, and was an honor rarely accorded; but with the stern, unwritten law before them, they explained, “White friends must hunt, hunt, hunt. All same Indian. No hunt, no dance.”
Another picturesque game is the dancing around the festal pole. In this dance, the women enter from one side, and the men from another. Around the ankles of the women are strapped clusters of shells of the highland terrapin, partly filled with pebbles; these shells are concealed by the long dress skirt, and as they dance, singing the long-cadenced song of their fathers, they make melodious music. A remarkable feature in the perfection of the dance is that as the women move off not a sound is heard, that bunch of shells is as silent as the tomb; and yet it would be practically impossible for one to move the shells by hand without causing them to rattle.
There is so much that is elevating and purifying in the conduct of these people that it would be hard to describe the scenes, the love and good humor that flash between the moments of the times spent in the council at the feasts and the dances.
SLAVERY.
That slavery existed among the present Seminoles has been a disputed question. That it did is known to a few; but any interference would have been received as an act of impertinence by the Indians, as well as by the slaves themselves; as was evidenced a few years ago when a tourist meeting Tustenuggee’s slave (who was watching his master’s canoe while his master sold some skins) attempted to enlighten the negro on his true condition. As the chief came back to the canoe, the philanthropist stranger began to explain his mission. The chief, with the ferocity which at once stamped him as a true Tustenuggee, ordered the negro to “go,” which command was instantly obeyed. Then, turning to the stranger, he said, “White man’s slave free. Injun _este lusta_ (negro) belong to Injun--now _you_ go.” The philanthropist also quickly obeyed.
Tallahassee’s squaw died about thirty-six years ago, leaving a family of six boys, the youngest one being but a small pickaninny. These boys were cared for by the two negro slaves who spoke only the Seminole language and were perfectly content to do the drudgery for the family. The number of slaves among the remnant left in Florida was small, but they were allied to the Indians and, while treated kindly, they were expected to obey. In the last few years they have all died off with the exception of one old slave, Hannah, in the Tallahassee band.
HANNAH, THE LAST LIVING SLAVE OF THE SEMINOLE INDIANS.
A character holding a position unparalleled in Uncle Sam’s domain, is Hannah, the negro slave, belonging to Tallahassee’s family. She is a full-blooded negress, with thick lips, broad flat nose and kinky hair, which is tied in little plaits with the proverbial string of the Southern negro.
Hannah is the last vestige of Seminole slavery--the one great subject of warfare seventy-five years ago between the Seminoles and the Southern planters, and upon which, truly speaking, was based the “Seven Years’ War.” Hannah does the work of the family, and, though she is kindly treated, yet a certain contempt is felt for her, for Hannah is an _este lusta_ (a negro) and to the haughty Seminole a negro is the lowest of human creatures.
The occasion when Hannah’s picture was kodaked is fresh in memory. All preparations were being made for the feast, but Billy Ham, Tallahassee’s son, had not been able to get a deer, and so had purchased beef from a market thirty miles away. With pots and kettles in evidence, Hannah was preparing the beef, when the little box-like instrument was gently rested on a rail near by. Hannah’s eye detected the object and she turned away, and began busying herself around the boiling kettle on the ground. The camera was adjusted, finger on button ready to snap, and a masked indifference affected, and an animated conversation begun with one of the Indians near by. When Hannah returned to her work about the table, snap! went the button, and Hannah’s ebony face and twisted, string-tied locks was photographed on the plate, and proud was the owner to possess so good a likeness of Uncle Sam’s one and only unfreed slave.
UNWRITTEN LAWS.
The government among the Seminoles is peculiar, it is remarkable, it is magnificent. There is no lying, no stealing, no murder and yet apparently there is no restraining law. The Seminole has many noble traits; he is proverbially truthful. Pertinent was the reply to the hunter when he asked if it was safe to leave his gun in the wigwam. “Yes,” replied the chief, “there is not a white man within fifty miles of the place.”
Reverence, too, is one of his distinguishing features. His language contains no oath, nor any word to express disrespect to the Supreme Being. A missionary will receive most respectful attention, for their reverence to God will not permit them to laugh at His messenger.
If the annals of this heroic band were chronicled, they would say, “They are prouder than the proudest Inca, braver than the boldest Saxon knight, fearless and unrelenting as foes, devoted and unflinching in friendship, and the purity of their morals without a parallel in the history of any other race or tribe on the globe.”
Anxiously and carefully have we studied their form of Government, knowing that they leave their money, their trinkets and their garments in the open wigwam. With carefully-framed questions we asked of Billy Bowlegs, while on his recent visit to our home, “Billy, your money, you leave it in your wigwam, you go back, money _hi-e-pus_ (gone), Indians steal it, then what you do?” He answered, “Me don’t know.” “Yes, but, Billy, white man come in my house, my money steal ’em--by-and-by, in jail me put him. Indian, all the same, bad Indian steal. What does Indian do?” Again the answer came, “Me don’t know.” Making the points plainer, illustrating by the theft of his gun, his provisions, showing him that a bad Indian from one of the other settlements might come in his absence and steal his Winchester, with perfect understanding of our meaning, the reply came as before, “Me don’t know, Indian no take ’em--Indian no steal.” In such a socialistic State, where there is no crime, there can be no punishment. Were a crime to be committed, a council of chiefs would meet and decree a punishment, and it would have enough severity to serve as a lesson for all future miscreants.
The only “fall from grace” we have ever known among any of the bands, extending over a period of twenty years’ acquaintance, was in the case of Buster Flint. Old Buster was a large, powerful Indian, but as the braves express it, he was “_ho-lo-wa-gus_” (no good), “lazy too much,” and laid around the settlement as a regular loafer, too indolent to work or hunt; and in consequence was ragged and unkempt. On one occasion, while our tent was pitched near the palmetto wigwams and the hunters had been absent for the day, on the return a small red napkin was found to be missing. Upon calling Captain Tom Tiger’s attention to the fact, he replied, “Me know,” and very soon the napkin was quietly returned to its place. Old Buster could not resist the bright red cloth and the others knew his weakness. What punishment was meted out to the old Indian was not learned, but certainly enough to terrify him during the remainder of our visit.
The Seminoles mean to be honest in their dealings with the whites. Occasionally the white man may be deceived when the Indian intends no wrong. As the National Editorial Excursion once made a tour of Florida, the train made a stop at a little trading post on the east coast. Quite a joke was innocently played upon the party by Captain Tom Tiger. A few Indians had come into the village to trade at the stores. Captain Tom had brought with him a load of sour oranges which grow wild in the region of his camp. The oranges are beautiful to the eye, but oh, how bitter! The merry editors saw the golden fruit and immediately offered to purchase. The chief was glad to sell, and only asked one cent apiece for the fruit; but the editors would not take advantage of the Indian’s ignorance of the price of oranges, so they paid him twenty-five cents per dozen for them. At this the load of oranges was soon disposed of and the chief, with perfect honesty of intention in the transaction, was the proud possessor of about twenty-five dollars. Those of the party who first tasted the fruit said nothing until all the oranges had been bought; then they were told to taste their oranges, and a laugh, long and loud, went up from one end of the car to the other, and as the train rolled away the good-natured but victimized passengers treated Captain Tom Tiger, chief of the Seminoles, to a shower of sour oranges. The Indian was dumbfounded. The wild orange is an article of barter in Florida, but not until the idea dawned upon Tom that the excursionists had mistaken his fruit for the sweet orange did he awaken from his bewilderment, and with earnest nods of the head and impressive gestures he soliloquized, “White man no like Indian’s orange--sour too much. Me tell white man, one orange, _one_ cent. White man tell me one orange, _two_ cents. Indian no cheat white man.”
The Seminoles look upon the dim past as a lost paradise in which there was happiness and innocence. “Before the white man came we were men,” says the Indian. Their faith in their forefathers is reverential. They believe they always did what was right. They were kind and true to their friends, but terrible to their enemies.
The Florida Indians are an industrious people. While the fruits of the chase are their main support, they cultivate the fields, raising vegetables, corn and sugar cane. The men make canoes, which they sell to hunters and trappers. Moccasins, baskets and koonti starch, plumes, smoked skins and venison are among their exports. Complaints are sometimes heard that the Indians are killing off the deer and the alligator, which is very true; but alike are the white men and the negro engaged in the same occupation. Before the white race taught the Indian the monetary value of the game of the country, he slew them only for food and clothing. Long centuries had he lived on this continent, but the herds of buffalo were not lessened; nor the vast quantities of game driven to the fastnesses of the forest. Till the white trader came to hunt the game as a source of revenue or for ruthless sport, the Indian knew no such motive.
Like his forefathers, the Seminole is no prohibitionist, but enjoys the fire water, as much as did the savage tribe that greeted the good ship, The Half Moon, in the land-locked waters of Manhattan, three hundred years ago, and drank the first American toast to the intrepid Henry Hudson. Since that first great tipple in New York which ended in such a scene of intoxication, causing the Mohicans to name the island “the place of the big drunk,” the Indian practices more precaution; and one of their number always remains sober and watches his boozy brother like a hawk. This is the practice of the Seminoles. Before going on a spree, a selection is made of one of the band whose duty it is to stand guard over all weapons and see that no injury is done to any member of the tribe. The “sprees” in which they indulge are too infrequent to warrant them being classed as intemperate. It is opportune at this point to say that only under the degrading influence of whiskey, which the white civilization brings to him, does the Seminole ever show any demoralized condition, and the proper official should see to the enforcement of the laws against selling liquor to these childlike people.
Only a few of the tribe talk broken English. The chiefs disapprove of it on general principles--for fear they will talk too much. To keep aloof from the white man, and the white man’s ways, is the training of the Seminole youth. Occasionally a few of the tribe leave their marshy homes. These talk sufficiently to do their trading when visiting towns to dispose of their plumes, deer skins, basket work, etc. These products always find ready sale, and when the great day of shopping begins, a “corner” in red calico and fancy colored beads is the result. The squaws have control of their own money, when on a purchasing expedition, a fact which makes them very _American_.
The squaws are about as sociable as the half-wild deer that are petted by the guests of the St. Augustine hotels. As seen in their camps, clustered together, half-alarmed, half-curious, the side glances from their dark-brown eyes seem to utter a protest against the Government’s eternal “move on.” A more severely pure-minded people are not to be found on the globe. The women are above reproach. Were a white man to insult a Seminole woman by word or look it would be well for that man never to appear in the presence of the tribe again. The Seminole girl who would unwisely bestow her affections would be killed outright by the squaws. In the history of the Everglade Indians only one such case is known and at the birth of the half-breed child the mother was taken to the woods and there hung to a tree by the indignant squaws. The infant was also destroyed. In questioning, as to which of the squaws did the killing, the answer was “All, every squaw.” On the principle of American lynch law each hand helped pull the rope.
GENS AND MARRIAGE.
The Seminoles, like other Indian tribes, are classified by gens. This lineage in the Florida tribe is traced through the mother. The child belongs to the clan which the mother represents. The mother exercises absolute ownership, and should a squaw and her husband separate for any cause, the children belong unconditionally to the wife.
Modesty, as the great ornament of women, is taught to the girls, and as she is about to enter into life there is a moral sublimity in the counsel that teaches her to hold an implicit reverence for her husband, but at the same time she becomes a teacher and custodian of her children. One young Indian of our acquaintance is divorced from his squaw. They have one pickaninny now, three years old. Asking the father to give the boy up, and holding out alluring inducements, he replied, “_Munks-chay_ (no), squaw’s pickaninny.” The gens represented in the Seminole tribe to-day are the Otter, the Tiger, the Deer, the Wind, the Bird, the Snake, the Bear, and the Wolf. Other gens are now extinct in Florida. Thus, in asking about the Alligator tribe, the chief replied, “All gone--long time ago--to Indian Territory.” A young brave dare not marry a girl from his own gens, he must select her from another clan. When asking a chief what he would do were he to want a girl from his own gens for a wife, and the girl should want to marry him, he replied, “Me no marry her.” The young Indian is shy and bashful in his courtships, and having resolved to marry, conceals his first overtures with all the Indian cunning. His intention is secretly conveyed to the girl’s parents, and should there be no objection the young woman is at liberty to accept or reject. No Seminole girl is forced into a marriage. The lover, with permission to woo, shows some token of affection; a deer is killed, and laid at the door of the wigwam. If the present is received the lover is happy. If it remains untouched, he may do as his white brother does, go hang himself, or, as is usual, go seek a more willing fair one. The prospective bride, to show her appreciation of her lover, makes a shirt and presents it to him. No pomp or ceremony is connected with the marriage. The day is set by the parents, the groom goes to the bride’s house, at the setting of the sun. He is now her husband, and at her home, he lives for a period. When the young couple build their own wigwam, they may build it at the camp of the wife’s mother, but not among the husband’s relatives.
BEAUTY AND MUSIC.
The Indian has a high sense of beauty in woman, and has been demonstrated on several occasions during their visits to the different towns. A Seminole chief was taken to the parlor of a hotel, where a new piano was the exciting theme, to see what effect the music would have upon his savage mind. But the fair-haired _performer_ absorbed his attention, and with a shrug which showed his appreciation for beauty more than for music, he said, “Ugh! white man’s squaw heap purty!”
Music is not a genius with the Seminoles. True, they have some songs which are monotone and rhythmical. They are the hunter’s songs, the camp songs and the lullabies. The war songs which sent such terror to the hearts of the white settlers in Seminole war days they seem to have forgotten. Some of the Indians have natural musical ears, and they are recognized by their people as musical leaders. They have no standard pitch, but start their songs where the natural quality of the voice renders it easiest to sing. The pitch of the song depends upon the individual.
An incident, full of pathos, yet illustrating one of life’s parodies, is recalled. It was occasioned by hearing the music of some old familiar tunes played in a gruesome Everglade home. As the picture recurs, one sees a savage tribe--a weird camp scene, with its storm-beaten wigwams in the background--and dusky warriors and squaws moving hither and thither in the dim shadows of the camp fire. In the center of the group sat the musician, who was the happy possessor of a “box of music,” an organette, which he had recently purchased. The melodies of “Home, Sweet Home,” “Hail Columbia,” and “Nearer My God To Thee,” floated out upon the stillness of the night, telling the story of the white man’s inheritance--happy homes, a free Government and an ennobling religion. To the Seminole the tuneful strains contained no more sentiment than the murmur of the brook: for they are a people without a home, without a country, and without a God in the sense of these songs.
RELATIONSHIP TO THE AZTECS AND EASTERN TRIBES
“YAH-VEY, YAH-VEY”
To-day, the antiquarian may lay aside his musty parchments of antiquity and in the heart of the Big Everglades study the history of an ancient people through living authors.
“_Jah-vey--Jah-vey--Yehovah--Yehovah!_” Monotone, yet rhythmical, the brown-faced singers chanted the hymn. Over and over again were the words repeated by the Seminole choir, till the word “_Jah-vey_” mystical with the centuries past, dwelt with the listener. None but a Hebrew scholar would have caught the word with an understanding of its meaning. The occasion was a Fourth of July celebration when the Rt. Rev. Wm. Crane Gray was visiting the Seminole Mission at Im-mo-ka-lee, situated near the western border of the Florida Everglades.
The Indians, full of confidence and kindly feeling, had consented to sign and here appeared the wonderful, yes, startling, observation made by Bishop Gray. “Jah-vey” is the Hebrew word meaning Jehovah, a word held in such awe by the children of Israel, and as claimed by scholars, too sacred to pass the lips of man, that even its correct pronunciation is unknown.
To-day in the weird fastnesses of the Everglades, a band of wild Indians chant the name of the Great Jehovah in the Hebrew tongue, a name that is meaningless in its original form to thousands of educated Americans.
When questioned by Bishop Gray as to the meaning of the sacred word, the Indian answered, “God, white man’s God.” The question now appeals to the scientist, to the antiquarian, and to the theologian. From whence came the Seminole’s knowledge of the word?
From its use in the depth of the Everglades, one may work back to the prehistoric ruined temples of Mexico and Yucatan, so similar to those of Egypt; and thus may find in Seminole speech a language link to connect the new world with the old.
Is this single word as verified by Bishop Gray the keynote to the history and origin of the North American Indian?
With a close study of the Seminoles of Florida, one finds a subject mystical with the history of centuries past. We meet in this old-turbaned tribe a history vague, ’tis true, but as interesting as the data gleaned from the hieroglyphics of Mexico, or Egypt, and why not?
While the archæologist delves among the ruins of ancient Egypt, and as he disturbs the inanimate forms of the old Pharoahs, let him pause and like Diogenes of old, shine his lantern in scientific research for the American Rameses. Tracing the proud and invincible Florida Seminole through all his wanderings, from the plains of Mexico, we meet him to-day in the confines of the mysterious and weird Everglades.
Reaching Florida in 1750, under the name Seminole or Wanderers, his history verges into a singularly distressing drama and forms a tragical chapter in American history.
Tracing their lineage, as we may, to the Aztecs of Mexico, the student must find in their usages and customs links that connect their present history with that of the ancient tribes.
In this remnant, proud as the old Montezumas, may the scientist and antiquarian find a history teeming with interest, while the novelist may revel in story, both real and legendary--the most romantic of Indian life that has ever been written.
If we accept the Le Plongeon theory of prehistoric Mexico, as well as Professors Holmes and Seville’s research of Mexican antiquities, we must note the relationship between the early Central American civilization and the Ancient Egyptians; and that the builders of the pyramids and temples of Mexico and Yucatan were closely allied with the architects of the Cheops.
After the conquest of Mexico by Cortez in 1519-20, the Muskogee Indians left Mexico and gradually traversed the country till in 1620 we find them in Alabama, where they added other bands to their ranks. The British name them Creeks, from the many small streams that traversed the country.
Thus the great Muskogee tribe of the Mexican Empire vanquished by Cortez became one hundred years later the Creek Confederacy, _from which branched the Seminoles_.