goblins, the Seminole is not superstitious. He has his traditions,
his mythologies, and on these are based his history. He obeys the
Great Spirit, but it is not from any spirit of fear; it is the
teaching of his fathers, and becomes the duty of the Indian. The
religion of the Seminole has been without question the most difficult
of all their history to reach.
The Florida Indians believe in a Supreme Being; in the immortality of
the soul; in the future existence and the resurrection of the dead.
Reverence, too, is one of his distinguishing features. His language
contains no oath, nor any word to express disrespect to the Great
Spirit. A missionary will receive most respectful attention for their
reverence to God will not permit them to laugh at His messenger. The
Seminole qualifies the Supreme Being as the “Giver and Taker away of
Life.” The Aztec designated, as the “God by Whom We Live.”
Their conception of the creation of man is very unique. “Long time
ago, E-shock-e-tom-isee (God) took seeds and scattered them all
around in a rich valley bordering a river. By and by, God saw fingers
coming out of the ground and great people--heap too many came up from
out of the sand. Some went to the river and washed, washed, washed
too much; it made them weak and pale; this was the es-ta-chat-tee
(white race). Others went to the river and washed not too much, they
returned full of courage, strong, heap; this was the es-ta-had-kee
(red race). The remainder no wash, lazy too much, es-ta-lus-tee
(black man).”
In an extract taken from an old history printed in London in 1776,
descriptive of the native inhabitants of Florida, these people are
described as idolaters, worshipping the sun and moon--the worship
consisting of saluting the rising sun, chanting his praise and
offering sacrifices to the planet four times a year. They believe
that the sun was the parent of life.
Whatever may have been the ancient rites of this race, the present
people seem to have outlived all remembrance of them as well as of
their early ancestors themselves. A glimmering of the Christian
religion, no doubt instilled into the race more than two hundred
years ago by the Franciscan priests, still seems to linger among the
descendants of to-day and constitutes their religion largely. These
rites they observe as faithfully as they did a century ago; and yet
in all that time they have received no further teaching, and have no
personal knowledge of the civilizing effects of the gospel of Christ.
In the same length of time where would have been the religion of the
Caucasian race, without the divine word, and without the influence of
men who have devoted their lives to the cause of Christianity? The
Seminoles believe in God (E-shock-e-tom-issee); that God had a son
(E-shock-e-tom-issee-e-po-chee) who came on earth and lived with the
Indians “long time ago to make them good Indians.”
[Illustration: HI-E-TEE, CAPTAIN TOM TIGER, HO-TI-YEE, AND “LITTLE
TIGER”]
One is tempted upon an intimate knowledge of this race to wonder
whether the Son of Man appeared to the Indian also; could not the
Light of the World in some mysterious way have touched the soul of
this innocent people? The more one studies the Seminole, the more
one wonders. Christ, according to their traditions, was killed by
the “wicked Spaniards” when they first came to this continent.
Since that time it has been the duty of the medicine men to teach
the Indians “to think with God,” and to impart the Great Spirit’s
wishes to his red children. Each tribe has two or more medicine
men who act as priests as well as doctors. These men are highly
honored by the tribe, because they believe them to be directed by
the Supreme Being. Just before the festival of the Green Corn Dance
the medicine men leave the tribe, and going to a secret spot, there
build a lodge. Here they fast for twenty-four hours, after which they
take a potion, made of herbs, which causes a deep sleep to come over
them. It is now that God appears to them in a dream and tells them
how to make the Indians “think good,” and how they shall prepare
the herbs for medicine. Returning in time to prepare for the great
feast they occupy a most prominent position in the dance circle. The
Seminole tradition of Christ’s coming to live with the Indians, is
that the Son of God stopped at the most southern point of Florida,
at which place he was met by three Indians who carried him around
the Southern Peninsula on their shoulders, while he sowed the seeds
of the “koonti” root, which was God’s gift to the red men. (This
koonti is a wild cassava and found only in the extreme southern
portion of Florida.) According to the legend, the Indians were in
a starving condition. The ground was parched, no corn grew and the
game had all left. During the long time in which the Indians waited
for the koonti to grow, God rained down bread “heap, plenty,” which
the Indians gathered and ate. In describing this bread, which came
down in the rain each morning, the Indian illustrated in this wise:
“Littly bread, white man’s biscuit all the same, good, every Indian
eat plenty.” The Mosaic account of the manna from heaven is evident
in this legend.
The Seminole believes in a future state, In-li-Ke-ta (heaven or
home). To this place do the good Indians go after death. Here they
may “hunt, hunt, hunt, plenty deer, plenty turkey, plenty bear find,
and cool water ojus (plenty) all the time. Bad Indians after big
sleep hunt, hunt, hunt, hunt deer, turkey, bear--no find ’em, hot
water drink all the time.”
The Indians’ religion, for we may justly call it so, is sacred to
him, and it is difficult to get him to reveal his inmost thoughts.
His idea of the Bible is vague, because he understands it as the work
of man. “White man got book, him good one day, he steal, cheat next
day; book no good. Injun no make book, he no see hunting ground, him
no go and come back. Big sleep, no come back, him no lie about it.
Me think good Injun find hunting ground all right; me think me find
it. White man, big sleep comes, me think no find In-li-Ke-ta (heaven)
easy.”
After death the body of a Seminole is immediately prepared for
burial, the corpse being clad in new clothes. When a chief dies one
cheek is painted red, the other one is painted black. The rest of the
tribe do not have the face painted for burial. It will be recalled
that Osceola, with the death struggle already upon him, rose in his
bed, and “with his own hand painted one-half of his face, his neck
and his throat, his wrists, the back of his hands and the handle of
his knife red, with vermillion,” the marks of a war chief.
At sunrise, on the day following a death, the body is carried by
two Indian men to the place of interment. The corpse is placed on a
base made of logs with the face to the rising sun. If the deceased
be a warrior, his rifle and accoutrements are placed by his side,
“that he may be fully armed on his arrival at the happy hunting
grounds.” A bottle of Sof-ka is buried with him that he may eat on
his long journey. Around the body is built a pen of logs sloping
till they close at the top and thickly covered with palmetto leaves.
The protection is to prevent the wild beasts from despoiling. With
faces now turned reverently to the rising sun, they commend into the
keeping of the Great Spirit the bivouac of the dead. The bearers of
the dead then make a fire at each end of the grave, and the mourners
return to camp, the women loudly wailing and tearing their hair.
At the death of a husband the widow must live with disheveled hair
for one year. Her long black tresses are worn over her face and
shoulders, and she presents a forsaken, pitiable appearance. At the
end of twelve moons her period of mourning is over, and she may again
arrange her hair, don her beads, which have been removed during her
period of mourning, and may marry again. The husband, on the death
of his squaw, may not hunt for four days, and for a period of four
moons must appear in mourning, which consists in the removal of his
neck handkerchiefs, and the laying aside of his turban. When a death
occurs in one band or settlement, the news is not communicated to the
other bands until such time as it is convenient for a messenger to be
sent.
BROUGHT BACK.
About fifteen years ago, one young Indian brave, Ko-nip-hat-cho by
name, stepped beyond the Seminole law and asked permission to live
with a white man at Fort Myers, Florida. He was eagerly received
by the gentleman, and was taught much of the English language and
civilized mode of living. But for a Seminole to so far forget the
teachings of his fathers, as to wish to affiliate with the white
race, caused the greatest dissatisfaction in the Indian camps.
“Talk after talk” was “made” by the chiefs as they met in council
concerning the actions of this bold young Indian. He was repeatedly
warned to return to the tribe. They even threatened to kill him if
he refused to do so. At length, however, artifice succeeded, where
all else had failed. The daughter of Charles Osceola was promised to
him for a wife if he would but return to his people and once more
don the costume of his race. No Indian girl in all the nation could
boast of the beauty of Nan-ces-o-wee; damask and dark, with features
as refined as the Caucasian, a form superb in its symmetry, a step
as graceful as the doe’s, a spirit as fearless as the falcon, such
is the woman who moved Ko-nip-hat-cho from his foreign alliance.
Ko-nip-hat-cho has four children, is contented and happy in his
forest home, and with his knowledge is an important personage among
his tribe. His wife is the belle of the Seminole nation. All the
Indian braves say, “Ko-nip-hat-cho’s squaw _heap purty_,” and in
their native tongue declare, “Nan-ces-o-wee most beautiful of all the
Seminole squaws.”
[Illustration: DR. JIMMIE TUSTANOGEE WITH HIS TWO WIVES AND THE
CHILDREN]
MOUNDS.
The great number of mounds found in Florida afford attractive study
to the lover of scientific research. These mounds are of many
shapes, heights and areas. They are found in all parts of the State,
but are more abundant on or near the coast and along the water
courses. Every few months some explorer, armed with shovels, picks
and other instruments used in excavating mounds, comes before the
public and announces new discoveries, based on new theories. The
best possible explanation of the source of these mounds is founded
on the theory that they are of Indian origin. One scientist has
aimed a happy stroke at writers of our antiquities when he says,
“Whoever has time and patience and will use his spade and his eyes
together, and restrain his imagination from running riot among
mounds, fortifications, etc., etc., will find very little more than
the indications of rude savages, the ancestors of the present race.”
No better theories can be advanced than those of Major Powell, who
says, “Remove the Indian element from the problem and we are left
without a hypothesis.” One of the latest mound excavations in Florida
was made by Dr. Moore. A thousand skeletons were unearthed as well
as many articles of pottery, and other things considered of great
value by the explorer. The height and character of the Florida
mounds indicate the different uses for which they were built. These
mounds vary from three feet to thirty feet in height, and their
areas range from a few square feet to four hundred feet square.
The shell mounds which are numerous throughout the peninsula seem
to have grown without any idea of purpose by the builders, and are
merely accumulations of shells and soil. Year after year it was the
custom of the tribes to congregate at certain localities for their
festivals, and, living on shell fish, the shells in course of time
formed vast mounds or elevations. There are a number of small mounds
on the outskirts of Kissimmee City. Excavations have been made, and
pieces of skeletons, beads, pottery and gold trinkets were exhumed.
Other mounds in Florida indicate that they were built for tombs,
while others, being composed of strata of sand and other soils, from
their height might have been built for outlooks or signal towers.
Chroniclers of De Soto’s day describe the manner in which the natives
brought the earth to these spots and formed these elevations. The
Indians say in Seminole war days these mounds were used to build
their signal fires upon. By smoke telegraphy, they communicated war
news from one band to another. By this means, with their fleet Indian
runners, who acted also as spies, the entire tribe was kept informed
of the innermost workings of the white army. In asking a chief about
the burial mounds, he answered, “Long time ago heap many people
here,” and that their “ancestors buried their dead in mounds so that
other bands coming along might not disturb their bones.” Many times
the body would be carried a great distance in order to bury in a
sepulchre where rested the bones of their ancestors. “Now,” said the
chief, “Seminoles no fight, not too many people;” and he buries his
dead near his camp.
PICTURE WRITING.
The Seminoles have no picture writing, nor do their minds in any
way run to art. They prefer the rough athletics of forest life,
which educates them for the chase and makes them the vigorous and
hardy people that they are. They would sooner “hook” an alligator
than paint the finest picture the brush is capable of producing,
and yet there is nothing in the white man’s home they enjoy more
than studying the pictures of a book. In this way they may be taught
much. Through the teaching by pictures they have learned the story
of Pocahontas, and of William Penn, “the red man’s brother.” On an
occasion the picture of a heathen Zuni god was shown to an Indian and
its meaning explained. The effect produced would have done credit to
a Christian believer.
MEDICINE.
The Seminoles have a superstitious faith in the efficacy of certain
roots and herbs known to their tribe, the knowledge of which has
been handed down from their remote ancestors. The curative property
of these plants they never question. A few of the band to-day have
carefully concealed about them small pieces of a root, which they
call “hil-lis-waw.” This root was gotten by some of their tribe sixty
years ago when their people were encamped at Tampa, and has been
carefully treasured ever since, having been handed down from father
to son. Their faith in the healing powers of this root is marvelous,
their idea being that the smallest possible piece being made into a
tea would restore life from death almost. Those fortunate enough to
own a small piece the size of a pea are considered to have a great
treasure. On testing this root it was found to be a simple plant, the
great medicinal qualities of which exist largely in the minds of the
Indians. They are ignorant as to what the root is and believe it to
be very valuable, saying, “So much (what one could hold in the palm
of his hand) cost $25.” “Long time ago,” says the Seminole, “chief
sick _heap_ too much; by-and-by, big sleep come. Medicine man bring
hil-lis-waw, fix ’um quick. Chief get well.”
[Illustration:
BILLY BUSTER TALLAHASSEE
TOMMY HILL CHARLIE PEACOCK]
A late incident occurred, showing the childlike faith of this people.
The little son of Ko-nip-pat-cho was taken very ill and when Seminole
medicinal efforts failed, the father learned from other Indians
that their white friend at Kissimmee City could procure for them the
“hil-lis-waw.” A runner was dispatched from the Everglades to the
nearest boat landing (a distance of 160 miles from Kissimmee) where a
note could be sent in person. This note was given to the Captain--the
Indian waiting for the return of the steamer. The Indians reported
afterwards, “Boy sick ojus, arms cold--feet cold--big sleep come
soon--Indian bring medicine from white friend, boy no die.”
Did not the Great Spirit, Who watches over His children, reward the
childlike faith of these Indians?
Pais-haw is the name applied to a plant which the Indians regard as
an antidote to the rattlesnake bite. Old settlers tell that they
have known of Indians allowing themselves to be bitten by a rattler
on a wager of a silver dollar. The Indians after being bitten would
go to the woods, a short distance away, and procure their antidote.
Returning they would apparently be no worse for the bite. Requesting
an Indian to procure some of the roots, he replied, “No find ’em
here--by-and-by me go to Okeechobee swamps, find ’em plenty.”
A few weeks later there came through the mail a small box full of
roots, neatly done up and addressed by the Indian’s own hand, a
perfect copy of name and address as he had learned to write it during
his visit.
On sending the roots to the Smithsonian Institute for analysis, the
secretary reports that they belong to a species of plant known as
_Cyperus_, and adds, “This is one of the large number of reputed
cures for snakebites, which have become so regarded from the
fact that a person who has been bitten has been known to recover
after taking the drug.” The use of water enters largely into the
_materia medica_ of the Seminoles, bathing in cold water being one
of their principal treatments for fevers. During the war with the
whites a soldiers’ camp was found deserted; the Indians immediately
appropriated the clothing, blankets and other things. Very soon the
loathsome disease of small-pox broke out among them. Ignorant as to
the nature of the malady, they immediately applied their bathing
remedy. The result was a frightful mortality, few of that band were
left to tell the story. In this instance, the Government army gained
a victory over their foe without the firing of a gun.
FLORIDA’S ABIDING WORDS OF BEAUTY THE HERITAGE
OF THE ABORIGINAL PATHFINDERS.
All through Florida the musical softness, peculiar to the Seminole
dialect, is sustained in the names of the lakes and rivers. Each
having a history descriptive of its character, or some incident
connected therewith.
The old names of the chiefs were very euphonious, such as Osceola,
Micanopy, Tusteenuggee, Coacoochee and Tallahassee. These are being
displaced by names adopted by the whites, such as Billy Ham, Tommy
John and Billy Buster. Accident, too, seems to have credited the
aborigines with words not really their own if it be true that
“Yankee” is only an attempt made by the Indian to speak the word
English, and that pappoose is the effort of the natives to say
“baby.” The symphonious cadence of such words as Alabama, Tuscaloosa,
Caloosahatchee and Minnehaha has often been noticed.
Tohope Ke-liga is the name of one of the most beautiful lakes in
Florida, its Indian significance meaning “fort site.” All around
the lake are the old hunting grounds of the Indians and memorable
points in Seminole war fame. To-day the Okeechobee drainage canal
connects it with the lakes south, plantations surrounding its shores;
the thriving city of Kissimmee is situated on its north side and
all trace of the Seminole has vanished. The only memorials he has
left are his words firmly embedded in the history of his conquerors.
Kissimmee river is said to have taken its name from a romantic
episode. A young Spanish grandee in a moment of impulse snatched a
kiss from a Seminole girl, and the frightened maiden’s childlike
plaint to her mother established the name of the river on whose banks
the kiss was stolen--Kiss-him-mee.
The romance attached to our beautiful Kissimmee river gives it
especial interest and we give it only as a traditional meaning. The
present Indians cannot give the English rendition, saying, “Indian
long, long time ago named the river,” which is corroborated by the
Bureau of Ethnology, Smithsonian Institution, as follows:
In reply to your letter I regret to say that it is impossible to
give you the meaning of “Kissimmee.” Several of our ethnologists
think the word dates back to the Ais Caloosa, or some other tribe
antedating the Seminoles, in which case the meaning will never be
known.
Very respectfully yours,
W. H. HOLMES,
Chief.
So many of the euphonious words abounding in Florida belong to the
ancient tribes and were picked up by the Seminoles.
An interesting bit of information was gotten after much care
and questioning from Chief Tallahassee as to the meaning of his
name--Tallahassee being only a nickname, or white man’s name for
him--his Indian name being Fo-so-wa-los-te-nock-ee, meaning chief of
the Bird gens or tribe.
The origin of the name of Florida’s State capital dates back to the
days that are but traditions to the Seminole.
As the Seminole interprets, “Long, long time ago,” many Indians and
houses were on the site where the city of Tallahassee now stands.
One day, as the tradition goes, all the Indians left. Some time
after, some Indians came along, Seminoles presumably, and seeing many
houses--but Indians “hiepus” (gone), exclaimed, “Tallahassee”--“all
gone or deserted.”
[Illustration: THE WILD HERON IN DOMESTICATION
“Littly white birds me send.”
“Mr. Billy Bowlegs.”]
We-la-ka is the Indian name for the St. John river and describes
it so graphically that the old Spaniards retrograded when they
named the “river of lakes” for their patron saint. Ock-la-wa-ha,
“crooked water,” appropriately describes the most crooked stream in
America. Okeechobee, with her vast expanse of water and over-hanging
mists, in Seminole significance means “the place of big water.”
With-la-coo-chee, so memorable in Seminole war days as the place of
Osceola’s strategic movements, is a long but very narrow stream,
meaning, in the Seminole tongue, “Little Big river.” Alachua, “the
big jug without a bottom,” We-Kiva, “mystery,” and so on all over the
Peninsula do we find names preserved which mark the wanderings of the
picturesque Aborigines.
The unwritten, but highly poetical, language of the Florida Indians,
should be incorporated into schoolcraft form and preserved with
the archives of history for future generations. One who has heard
the war shouts, their mythological tales, the words accompanying
their dancing tunes, or listened in the darkness of the night, with
breathless wonder to the heart-moving dirges sung by wailing women
as they move around the corpse of some dead member, the whole scene
lit up by the flickering flames of the lurid camp fire, cannot doubt
but that the Florida Indian _has_ a literature, and the white race is
to blame for its imperfect knowledge of the unwritten but priceless
productions of a savage race.
The linguistic perfection of the Seminole language, with its fluent,
oratorical powers, shows itself in every speech or talk ever made to
the white man.
With linguistic research, the scientist readily finds that man does
not invent language any more than a bird does its twittering or a
tree its leaves. It requires a whole nation to produce a language.
Of the world’s famous orators we have our Demosthenes of the Greek,
Cicero of the Roman, England’s great Gladstone, America with her
Calhoun, Clay and Webster; but as yet has the world ever found
greater eloquence than in the “talks” of the famous Indian chiefs?
Red Jacket, on the religion of the white man and the red race, is a
marvel of eloquence. Then what shall we say of Tecumseh, the great
Shawnee, as he delivered his famous talk to General Harrison, or
Black Hawk, the captive, in his plea before General Street?
In dealing with the Seminole language we meet with long
words and mammoth expressions. The Seminole greeting,
“Ha-tee-eten-chee-hick-cha-hit-is-chay,” sounds formidable, yet it
only means “Glad to see you.” These, with well-understood Indian
phrases, such as “burying the tomahawk,” “going on the warpath,”
we employ familiarly without a thought of the tribe we have
dispossessed. The time for studying the aborigines of America will
soon be over. Only remnants of the tribes remain among us. Old myths
and customs are being displaced by new ones, and we can truly see
that the red man’s inheritance is nearing the horizon of its destiny.
THE SEMINOLE’S RECESSIONAL.
When the last Seminole goes, he will in every sense be the last. He
will leave no history; neither monument. His narrow path through
the Savannah lasts no longer than the doe’s road to the ford of
the stream. His race have had their joys, their triumphs and their
defeats, and then been swept into oblivion.