Photograph by E. W. Histed.
A PICTURESQUE GROUP
Seminoles of the Cow Creek band.
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.