Osceola
Fort Moultrie, Sullivan’s Island
near Charleston, Jan 24, 1838

  In Fort Moultrie are the Seminole Prisoners of war-250 in number-chiefs, warriors, women and children, in a motley and miserable group. Osceola, Micanopy, Cloud, Coahajo, and King Philip are the chiefs; and of them, as well as of several others, I have already secured the portraits, which I shall bring to N. York in a few days.

  Mick-e-no-pah, who is the first civil chief of the nation, and was at the commencement of the war the owner of an hundred negroes, is a stately and dignified man, proud of his superabundant flesh, and equally so of his title of “Genera,” as he is a familiarly called. This fat dignitary, and also Cloud, and several others, seem tolerably quiescent, and not disposed to grieve away their fat in their present confinement; but there is one restless spirit among them of a different caste-one who sites and broods over his nation’s calamities with a broken heart, and pieces and sickens in an agony which none but himself can now or feel-I mean Osceola, (Powell,) or, as he and all the other chiefs distinctly pronounce it, As-se-o-la.

  From the time I have spent with this Chief, and the familiar interviews I have with him in conversation, I have been able to form a pretty correctly notion of the feelings and character, as well as history, of this extraordinary man. A Creek by birth, and sought an asylum amongst the Seminoles, where he has been reared, and where he has flourished since. His father was a white man, by the name of Powell, who abandoned him and sent him a vagrant upon the world to cater for himself. He soon became a favorite amongst the Seminoles; and from his force of character and genius alone, he has risen to the highest honors of the nation.

  At all the ball players, and other manly sports, Powell was reputed first in the nation: and his name was changed to As-se-o-la from the fact that he could drink a greater quantity of the “black drink” (call as-se-o-la) which was prepared from some bitter and nauseating herbs, and drank preparatory to the fast and feat of the green corn dance.

  From such facts, it appears he is entirely a “self-made man,” and one of an extraordinary character, which is conclusively proved by the fact that the is acknowledged, and followed, by all the chiefs of the nation, as their head war chief. Though he is but a demi savage in blood, yet he speaks not a word of English; and in his actions and feeling is perfectly an Indian as any man I ever saw. In stature he is about the middling size; and in his features there is no striking peculiarity to stamp them out of mediocre, but a pleasing symmetry of proportion, upon which the lights and shadows of passion and feelings are seen to play with perfect effect. There is at times spread over them the most benignant and expressive smiles, even to perfect effeminacy; and, at others, they are darkened with the sternness of a Brutus, or the agony of a dying gladiator. In fact, he is the perfect beau ideal of an Indian prince-graceful in his movements, and mild, almost to childishness, in his intercourse with the world. His hand is small and delicate to the touch as that of a female, and the loveliest of them are continually flocking around him in groups to feel its gentle grasp, and catch the languishing looks from his down-cast eye-to bestow upon him some beautiful tinsel or plume, and levy upon his raven locks for a small and precious keepsake of As-se-o-la.

  I thought at first, like thousands of others who take but a glance at him, that he was effeminate and womanish, but on a little acquaintance and familiarity with him, I became fully convinced, that the true character of this man is not to be learned by the transient visitor, who sees him but a moment, and in that moment an prisoner, withering under a broken spirit, endeavoring to raise a smirk and a smile to meet the gazing world who are blocking to see him. These smiles are soft and beautiful, and are many; but those, who, like myself, have heard him pour forth his griefs in the simpering tears of actual childishness, and then instantly rally, and rouse himself into the indignant sternness of the warrior and hero, will easily see that those smiles are based upon an agony that regularly preys upon his substance His face is certainly one of the most expressive kind I ever have seen capable of the most vivid and striking exhibition of the human passions that can possibly be imagined, bearing upon its fruit the predominant characteristic impress of sternness and reserve, and excessive perseverance in the pursuits of life.

  His manner of dress and ornament it such as greatly to interfere with the full development of his true character. His hair is cut close to the head, except, superabundance which is left on the fore, head, flowing down to his eyes, and large, tufts protruding from his temples in front of his ears, and dropping down near to the clavicle, resembling, or rather in at probability originating (for Indian fashions never change) the present fashion which the gentlemen of New York art adopting, of cultivating locks over the ears, which might he properly styled "a la Powell." Back of this is passed around his head, with great taste, a richly embroidered handkerchief or shawl, in the form of a Moorish band or a Turkish turban, supporting two or three ostrich plumes, which fall quite back in a horizontal position.

  The ancient and native form of dress he still adheres to; the tunic and manteau, the leggings and moccasins; but the approximation of his tribe to civilization has substituted the material of calicoes and fustians in place of skins; so that the base of his dress is of civilized manufacture but adorned and ornamented according to their own whimsical taste. Silver ear drops are pendant from the ears—silver breast plates, in form of crescents, and a profusion of beads and trinkets fall over the breast—a broad and beautifully gar niched belt crosses his shoulders, to which is attached his bullet pouch and horn.— Around his waist he wears a blue sash of exquisite workmanship, interwoven with white and blue beads-his garters, which are very broad, and embracing the greater part of the calf of his leg, are of the same material, tightly bandaged over his leggings of scarlet cloth, and his moccasins are of buckskin, ornamented with heeds and hawk bids. Such, with his rifle in his hand, and his knife in his belt. (his only weapons) is As-se o-la, the fallen Prince and Hero of Florida.

  I have listened much and faithfully to the narrations of this man, and drawn other in information from those who have been longer and more intimately acquainted with him, and I am fully convinced that there is something of the most extraordinary nature in the true character of this man—a something that bears an impress a which can never be forgotten or erased. He has a mind of a wonderful construction, calculated to fortify and yet destroy itself— a lurking cunning, capable of gilding with the warmth and glowing pleasantness of sunshine the whirling tempest that's raging in his soul, and even in his mirth and childishness destroying him. He smiles and fawns and languishes before the gazing world but in his solitude, or when he tells in confidence his tales of grief, though mild and smiling dew drops moisten his eyes, at one moment, yet the burning hero rushes through their sockets at the next—his brows jet over their balls of fire—his nostrils and his bosom swell with impatience-and his clenched teeth are set in silent oaths of irretractable revenge. Naturally of a restless and impatient disposition—in his captive interviews with the civilized world he smiles-but in his solitude he grieves and pines with a broken heart. The world who have barely seen him, shake the hand of a laughing lawn; but those who listen to his griefs it I have done, will see the sternness of a Roman, and in his agony a beautiful statue of Vengeance.

  A mind thus organized and enthralled by such circumstances as have fallen to his lot, must soon destroy its tenement.— There are elements in such a spirit that wage a deadly war with the body when thwarted and chained down to a prison—his physical strength is rapidly given way and I would be very much surmised if he should survive many months or even weeks in his present confinement, and under his present agony of feeling.

  More anon. In great haste,

Respectfully yours, &c,

GEORGE CATLIN.