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 wordto 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.
HANNAH, THE ONLY REMAINING SLAVE OF THE SEMINOLESIn Tallahassee’s camp making sofka for dinner.
HANNAH, THE ONLY REMAINING SLAVE OF THE SEMINOLESIn Tallahassee’s camp making sofka for dinner.
In Tallahassee’s camp making sofka for dinner.
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, moneyhi-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, therecan 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 villageto 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,onecent. White man tell me one orange,twocents. Indian no cheat white man.”
The Seminoles look upon the dim past as a lostparadise 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 ownmoney, when on a purchasing expedition, a fact which makes them veryAmerican.
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.