Jim here took a whiff or two on his pipe, and, turning over on his back and drawing up his knees and clasping his hands across his stomach ([Plate No. 17]), said—
“We know very well that the King and the Queen and all the royal family are pleased with us, and are our friends, and if that is not enough to make us respected we had better go home. We believe that the King is a much greater man, and a much better man, than any of those we saw there, and better than the whole of them put together. We know that there are many kind people in this great city who will be glad to shake our hands in friendship, and there are others who would like to get our skins, and we think that we saw some such there to-day. We met some kind people yesterday, where we went to dine—we love those people and do not fear them. If we should get sick they would be kind to us, and we think much more of that kind lady and gentleman than we do of all the great doctors we have seen this day—we hope not to see them any more. This is the wish of the chiefs, and of our wives and little children, who are all alarmed about them.”
This finished the conversation for the present about the learned society, though the impression was one of a most unfavourable kind on their minds, and was a long time in wearing away.
No. 17.
The time had at length arrived for the opening of my collection and the commencement of the illustrations of the Indians. It had been for some days announced, and the hour had approached. The visitors were admitted into the rooms where my numerous collection of 600 paintings and some thousands of articles of Indian manufactures were subjects of new and curious interest to examine until the audience were mostly assembled, when, at a signal, the Indians all entered the room from an adjoining apartment, advancing to and mounting the platform, in Indian file, in full dress and paint, and armed and equipped as if for a battle-field. They sounded the war-whoop as they came in, and nothing could exceed the thrill of excitement that ran through the crowd in every part of the Hall. There was a rush to see who should get nearest to the platform, and be enabled most closely to scan “les Sauvages horribles,” “les Peaux Rouges,” ou “les nouvelles Diables à Paris.”
The chief led the party as they entered the room, and, having ascended the platform, erected the flag of his tribe in the centre, and in a moment the party were all seated around it, and lighting their pipe to take a smoke, whilst I was introducing them and their wives to the audience. This having been done in as brief a time as possible, they finished their pipe and commenced their amusements in Paris by giving the discovery-dance. This curious mode forms a part and the commencement of the war-dance, and is generally led off by one of the War-chiefs, who dances forward alone, pretending to be skulking and hunting for the track of his enemy, and when he discovers it he beckons on his warriors, who steal into the dance behind him, and follow him up as he advances, and pretends at length to discover the enemy in the distance, ordering all to be ready for the attack.