Such was a part of the gossip of an evening, while my days were occupied in preparing my rooms for the admission of the public. During this delay, one of the gentlemen who visited the Indians most frequently, as his native countrymen, was Mr. W. Costar, formerly of New York, but now living in Paris, and whose kind lady invited the whole party to dine at her house.
The Indians had expressed the greatest pleasure at meeting this American gentleman in Paris, as if they claimed a sort of kindred to him, and met the invitation as one of great kindness, and the interview as one in which they were to feel much pleasure. They were particularly careful in dressing and preparing for it, and when ready, and the time had arrived, Mr. Melody and I accompanied them to this gentleman’s house, where a most sumptuous dinner was served, and besides his accomplished lady and lovely daughters, there were several ladies of distinction and of title, seated, to complete the honours that were to be paid to the Indians.
It was a matter of great surprise to all the fashionable guests who were present, that those rude people from the wilderness, used to take their meals from the ground, were so perfectly composed and so much at ease at the table, and managed so well with the knife and fork, and even so gracefully smiled over their glasses of wine when a lady or a gentleman proposed the health of any one. Just before we had finished our dessert, a number of fashionable ladies, the Countess of L——, the Baron and Baroness de G——, and several others who had begun to assemble for the evening soirée, arrived, and were ushered into the dining room, where they had the curiosity of seeing the Indians as they were seated in all their trinkets and ranged around the table; and from the lips of all escaped the instant exclamations of, “Bless me! what a fine and noble-looking set of men they are! How much at ease they seem! Why, those are polished gentlemen,” &c. &c.
From the dinner table they were invited to the salon, where a large party had gathered, who were delighted with the wild and picturesque appearance of the “Peaux Rouges.”
The Indians saw some fine dancing and waltzing, and heard some splendid playing on the piano, and singing.
The Doctor’s complete fascination by the playing and singing of a beautiful young lady was so conspicuous as to become the principal event of the evening, and after he had stood and smiled upon her in profound admiration during her fourth or fifth song, he amused many of the party, and shocked others, by the extraordinary and unexpected, though perfectly just remark, that “her voice was as soft and sweet as that of a wolf!”
This startling compliment I must leave for the estimates of the world, mentioning only the two facts, that the Doctor’s totem (or arms) is the wolf; and that in my travels in the prairies of America I have often thought that the soft, and plaintive, and silvery tones of the howling prairie wolf oftentimes surpassed in sweetness the powers of the human voice.
M. Vattemare, in his kind endeavours to promote the interest of the Indians, and that of myself, had obtained an invitation from the Members of the Royal Academy of Sciences for the Indians to visit them at one of their sittings, which was a great honour; but the poor Indians left Paris without ever having been able to learn how or in what way that honour arrived. Messrs. Melody and Vattemare and myself accompanied the whole party to their rooms, and, being ushered and squeezed and pushed into a dense crowd of gentlemen, all standing, and where the Indians were not even offered a seat, they were gazed and scowled at, their heads and arms felt, their looks and capacities criticised like those of wild beasts, without being asked a question, or thanked for the kindness of coming, and where they were offered not even a glass of cold water. The Indians and ourselves were thus eyed and elbowed about in this crowd for half an hour, from which we were all glad to escape, deciding that it was entirely too scientific for us, and a style of politeness that we were not perhaps sufficiently acquainted with duly to appreciate.
The various conjectures about the objects of this visit were raised after we got home, and they were as curious as they were numerous. The Indians had reflected upon it with evident surprise, and repeatedly inquired of M. Vattemare and myself for what purpose we had taken them there. M. Vattemare told them that these were the greatest scientific men of the kingdom. This they did not understand, and he then, to explain, said they were the great medicine men, the learned doctors, &c. They then took the hint a little better, and decided alarm with it, for they said they recollected to have seen in some of their faces, while examining their heads and arms, decided expressions of anxiety to dissect their limbs and bones, which they now felt quite sure would be the case if any of them should die while in Paris. The War-chief, who seldom had much to say while speaking of the events of the day, very gravely observed on this occasion, that “he had been decidedly displeased, and the chief also, but it would be best to say no more about it, though if any of the party got sick, to take great care what physicians were called to visit them.”
M. Vattemare, in his kind interest for all parties, here exerted his influence to a little further degree, and persuaded the Indians to believe that those distinguished men, the great philosopher M. Arago and others, who were present, would be their warmest friends, but that with these transcendently great and wise men, their minds and all their time were so engrossed with their profound studies, that they had no time or desire to practise politeness; that they were the eyes which the public used, to look deep into and through all things strange or new that came to Paris; and that the public were after that, polite and civil, in proportion as those learned men should decide that they ought or ought not to be.