Southern Literature From 1579-1895 Part 35

~1820=----.~

GEORGE RAINSFORD FAIRBANKS was born in Watertown, New York, but settled in Florida at St. Augustine in 1842 and identified himself with his adopted state. From 1860 to 1880 his home was at Sewanee, Tennessee, and he has been on the Board of Trustees of the "University of the South" since 1857. During the war he served as major in the Confederate army, 1862-65. In 1880 he returned to Florida and has since made his home in Fernandina. His "History of Florida" is considered the best history of that state, and is written in a clear and interesting style.

WORKS.

History of Florida.

History and Antiquities of St. Augustine.

OSCEOLA, LEADER OF THE SEMINOLES.

(_From History of Florida._[21])

[Ill.u.s.tration: ~Osceola.~]

His true Indian name was As-se-se-ha-ho-lar, or Black Drink, but he was commonly called Osceola, or Powell. He belonged to a Creek tribe called Red Sticks, and was a half-breed. He removed to Florida with his mother when a child, and lived near Fort King [three miles east of Ocala]. At the beginning of the Florida war he was about thirty-one years of age, of medium size, being about five feet eight inches in height, resolute and manly in his bearing, with a clear, frank, and engaging countenance. He was undoubtedly the master-spirit of the war, and by his firmness and audacity forced the nation into the war which a large majority were averse to engaging in, and either broke up every attempt at negotiations or prevented their fulfillment. He was to have been one of the leaders at Dade's ma.s.sacre, but was detained at Fort King by his determination to gratify his revenge upon General Thompson. He partic.i.p.ated in the battles at the ford of the Withlacoochee and Camp Izard, and led the attack upon Micanopy, where, with his force of less than two hundred and fifty men, within sight of the fort, he attacked upwards of one hundred regular troops in an open field, supported by a field-piece.

His capture, [October, 1837], by General Hernandez was due to his audacity and self-confidence. Bad faith, and a disregard of the usages of civilization, have been imputed to General Jesup on this occasion, Osceola having come in under a white flag to negotiate; but that officer contended that Osceola had broken his faith in reference to the Fort Dade capitulation [when he had promised to emigrate] and was to be treated as a prisoner.

From all that can be gathered of his character, Osceola was possessed of n.o.bler traits than usually belong to his race. His manners were dignified and courteous, and upon the field he showed himself a brave and cautious leader. It is said that he instructed his people in their predatory excursions to spare the women and children. "It is not,"

said he, "upon them that we make war and draw the scalping-knife. It is upon men. Let us act like men."

Osceola has furnished to the poet, to the novelist, and to the lover of romance, a most attractive subject, and scarce any limit has been placed to the virtues attributed or the exploits imagined in connection with this renowned chief of the Seminoles. A poet has sung of him,--

"His features are clothed with a warrior's pride, And he moves with a monarch's tread; He smiles with joy, as the flash of steel Through the Everglades' gra.s.s is seen."

Upon his removal to Charleston, he became dejected and low-spirited, and gradually pined away. All efforts to interest him in a Western home failed to arouse him, and in a few weeks he died of a broken heart, and was buried just outside of the princ.i.p.al gateway of Fort Moultrie, where his resting-place is inclosed and a monument erected.

FOOTNOTE:

[21] By permission of the author.

RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON.

~1822=----.~

RICHARD MALCOLM JOHNSTON was born in Hanc.o.c.k County, Georgia. He was professor of Literature in the University of Georgia, 1857-1861. He served, as colonel, in the Confederate army, and has since had a school for boys at Sparta, Georgia, and later near Baltimore.

In connection with Prof. William Hand Browne of Johns Hopkins, he has published a "History of English Literature" and a "Life of Alexander H. Stephens." His tales describe life among the Georgia "Crackers" and they have many readers and admirers. His style has the stamp of simple truth and is irresistible. See _Sketch_ in Miss Rutherford's "American Authors."

WORKS.

Dukesborough Tales.

Old Mark Langston.

Two Gray Tourists.

Collection of Stories.

Mr. Absalom Billingslea and other Georgia Folks.

Widow Guthrie.

History of English Literature; Life of Alex. H. Stephens: (both with Prof. W. H. Browne.) Ogeechee Cross-Firings.

Mr. Bill Williams.

Primes and their neighbors.

Pearce Amerson's Will.

The following extract is a true story of an old gentleman who was Alexander H. Stephens' first client.

MR. HEZEKIAH ELLINGTON'S RECOVERY.

(_From Life of Alexander H. Stephens._[22])

The old gentleman was brought very low with malarious fever, and his physician and family had made up their minds, that, notwithstanding his extreme reluctance to depart from this life,--a reluctance heightened no doubt by his want of preparation for a better,--he would be compelled to go. The system of therapeutics in vogue at that time and in that section included immense quant.i.ties of calomel, and rigorously excluded cold water. Mr. Ellington lingered and lingered, and went without water so long and to such an extent that it seemed to him he might as well die of the disease as of the intolerable thirst that tormented him. . . . . . . .

At last, one night, when his physicians, deeming his case hopeless, had taken their departure, informing his family that he could hardly live till morning, and the latter, worn down by watching, were compelled to take a little rest, he was left to the care of his constant and faithful servant, Shadrach, with strict and solemn charge to notify them if any change took place in his master's condition, and, above all, under no circ.u.mstances to give him cold water.

When the rest were all asleep, Mr. Ellington, always astute and adroit in gaining his ends, and whose faculties at present were highly stimulated by his extreme necessity, called out to his attendant in a feeble voice, which he strove to make as natural and unsuggestive as possible,--

"Shadrach, go to the spring and fetch me a pitcher of water from the bottom."

Shadrach expostulated, pleading the orders of the doctor and his mistress.

"You Shadrach, you had better do what I tell you, sir."

Shadrach still held by his orders.

"Shadrach, if you don't bring me the water, when I get well I'll give you the worst whipping you ever had in your life!"

Shadrach either thought that if his master got well he would cherish no rancor towards the faithful servant whose constancy had saved him, or, more likely, that the prospect of recovery was far too remote to justify any serious apprehension for his present disobedience; at all events, he held firm. The sick man, finding this mode of attack ineffectual, paused awhile, and then said, in the most persuasive accents he could employ,

"Shadrach, my boy, you are a good n.i.g.g.e.r, Shadrach. If you'll go now and fetch old master a pitcher of nice cool water, I'll set you free and give you _Five Hundred Dollars_!" And he dragged the syllables slowly and heavily from his dry jaws, as if to make the sum appear immeasurably vast.

But Shadrach was proof against even this temptation. He only admitted its force by arguing the case, urging that how could he stand it, and what good would his freedom and five hundred dollars do him, if he should do a thing that would kill his old master?

The old gentleman groaned and moaned. At last he bethought him of one final stratagem. He raised his head as well as he could, turned his haggard face full upon Shadrach, and glaring at him from his hollow blood-shot eyes, said,

"Shadrach, I am going to die, and it's because I can't get any water.

If you don't go and bring me a pitcher of water, after I'm dead I'll come back and HAUNT you! I'll HAUNT you as long as you live!"

"Oh Lordy! Master! You shall hab de water!" cried Shadrach; and he rushed out to the spring and brought it. The old man drank and drank,--the pitcherful and more. The next morning he was decidedly better, and to the astonishment of all, soon got well.

FOOTNOTE: