OSCEOLA, THE GARIBALDI OF THE SEMINOLES
Do we feel surprised that thousands of our Florida tourists make efforts to see the descendants of Osceola, the Garibaldi of the Seminoles?
That Osceola should be named Florida’s most distinguished historical character is not to be disputed. This statement, in its boldness, regarding an untutored Indian of the wilderness, at first startles, but in looking over the pages of history, the question naturally follows: “Is there another character in Florida, or even in American history, who is known from ocean to ocean and whose generalship in warfare, has the admiration of the civilized world, whose heroism is the ideal of every school boy; the story of Osceola, recounting his valor and patriotism, may be found in the classic histories of the libraries of the world.”
History has never given to the world a more regal soldier, with his magnetic personality, royal in its wild, uncivilized way.
With such reverence is Osceola regarded by the remnants of the Seminole tribe today, that the name given to him when he was accepted as a chieftain by the nation, is guarded so jealously that they refuse to reveal it to any white man who might disclose it—treating it much as the Israelites did the name of Jehovah—too sacred to pass the lips of an alien race.
Osceola’s pride was always uppermost in his negotiations and when the Seminoles were denied the right to buy ammunition, Osceola was made the object of the insult.
To this he replied with all the defiance of his proud blood: “Am I a negro? A slave who will not be allowed to handle a rifle? My skin is dark, not black. I am a Red Stick of the Muscokees. The white man shall know I am a pure blood.”
At this point, it is with much pleasure, the author desires to correct the erroneous and too often quoted statement as given in the pages of literature, viz.: that “Osceola was a half-breed, the son of an English trader.”
After much research among records, and from the learned leaders of the Western Seminoles, as well as from the old Seminoles of the Everglades, it is learned that Osceola disdained the idea of mixed blood, declaring that “not a drop of foreign blood flowed through his veins.”
His mother was a Creek of the pure blood, a daughter of a chief, whose second marriage to an Englishman (Powell, by name), occurred when Osceola was a small boy.
Osceola was magnanimous in character and honorable in war and no other crime can be charged to this chivalrous Seminole than a positive opposition to the removal of his people from their sunny, native land to the blizzard-stricken territory of the West.
Picture, if you will, a Florida war scene that in dramatic climax is matchless in the world’s history.
In the Government’s headquarters, Seminole Chieftains and American army officers wait; each are in the insignia of their respective ranks. The American flag adds dignity to the scene. Through the open windows come the fragrant perfume of the orange and the magnolia blossoms and the song of the mocking-birds adds a flute-like melody to the tropical setting.
The very air is tense with the mental questions. Will Osceola come—will Osceola sign?
Promptly at the hour appointed, the savage chieftain, royal in his warrior regalia, self-possessed and with noiseless step, enters the room. With a swift glance at the stacked arms of his warriors, he approached the council table and with defiance in his face and high uplifted head, exclaimed: “Rather than act the coward, by signing away the Seminole’s inheritance and taking my people into a strange land, I will fight till the last drop of blood moistens the dust of the Seminole’s hunting grounds,” and drawing his long sheath knife drove the blade through the treaty pinning it to the table. “The land is ours. This is the way I will sign all such treaties.”