Our second evening soon approached, and we found the hall fashionably filled again, and of course the Indians, though in a strange country, in good spirits and gratified, as their very appearance while entering the room got them rounds of applause. After their exhibition was over in the usual way I got my applause, and so our mutual efforts were daily and nightly made to instruct and amuse the Parisians, which I shall always flatter myself we did to a considerable extent.
While our exhibitions were now in such a train, we were studying how to make the most valuable use of our extra time, by seeing the sights of Paris and its environs.
The Louvre was one of the first objects of our attention; and having procured an order from the Director to visit it on a private day, we took an early hour and made our entry into it. We were received by the Director with kindness, and he conducted the party the whole way through the different galleries, pointing out and explaining to them and to us the leading and most interesting things in it.
The Director, M. de Cailleux, had invited several of his distinguished friends to meet him on the occasion, and it was to them, as well as to us, interesting to see the Indians under such circumstances, where there was so much to attract their attention and calculated to surprise them. M. Vattemare was with us on this occasion, and of very great service in his introductions and interpretations for us. Amongst the distinguished persons who were present, and to whom I was introduced on the occasion, was the Baron de Humboldt. He accompanied us quite through the rooms of the Louvre, and took a great deal of interest in the Indians, having seen and dealt with so many in the course of his travels. I had much conversation with him, and in a few days after was honoured by him with a private visit to my rooms, when I took great pleasure in explaining the extent and objects of my collection.
The view of the Louvre was a great treat to the Indians, who had had but little opportunity before of seeing works of art. In London we thought we had showed them all the sights, but had entirely forgotten the exhibitions of paintings; and I believe the poor fellows had been led to think, before they saw the Louvre, that mine was the greatest collection of paintings in the world. They had a great deal of talk about it when they got home and had lit their pipe. The one great objection they raised to it was, that “it was too long—there were too many things to be seen; so many that they said they had forgotten all the first before they got through, and they couldn’t think of them again.” There was one impression they got while there, however—that no length of room or number of pictures would easily eradicate from their memories, the immense number of marks of bullets on the columns of the portico, and even inside of the building, shot through the windows in the time of the Revolution of July. This appalling scene was described to them on the spot by M. Vattemare, which opened their eyes to an historical fact quite new to them, and of which they soon taxed him and me for some further account.
The poor fellows at this time were beginning to sympathize with the noble fellow the Little Wolf, whose wife had been for some weeks growing ill, and was now evidently declining with symptoms of quick consumption. The buoyant spirits of the good and gallant fellow seemed to be giving way to apprehensions; and although he joined in the amusements, he seemed at times dejected and unhappy. There were days when her symptoms seemed alarming, and then she would rally and be in the room again in all the finery of her dress and trinkets, but was evidently gradually losing strength and flesh, and decided by her physician to be in a rapid decline. She was about this time advised to keep to her chamber and away from the excitement of the exhibition and sight-seeing, in which the rest of the party were daily engaged.
By this time the Ioways had made so much noise in Paris that they were engaging the attention of the scientific, the religious, and the ethnologic, as well as the mere curious part of the world, and daily and almost hourly applications were being made to Mr. Melody and myself for private interviews with them for the above purposes. We were disposed to afford every facility in our power in such cases, but in all instances left the Indians to decide who they would and who they would not see.
Amongst those applicants there was a phrenologist, who had been thrusting himself into their acquaintance as much as possible in their exhibition rooms, and repeatedly soliciting permission to go to their private rooms to make some scientific examinations and estimates of their heads, to which the Indians had objected, not understanding the meaning or object of his designs. He had become very importunate however, and, having brought them a number of presents at different times, it was agreed at Mr. Melody’s suggestion, one day, as the quickest way of getting rid of him, that he should be allowed to come up. We conversed with the Indians, and assured them that there was not the slightest chance of harm, or witchcraft, or anything of the kind about it, and they agreed to let him come in. They had a hearty laugh when he came in, at Jim’s wit, who said to him, though in Indian language that he didn’t understand, “If you will shut the door now, you will be the ugliest-looking man in the whole room.” This was not, of course, translated to the phrenologist, who proceeded with his examinations, and commenced on Jim’s head first. Jim felt a little afraid, and considerably embarrassed also, being the first one called upon to undergo an operation which he knew so little about, or what was to be the result of. Stout, and warlike, and courageous as he was, he trembled at the thought of a thing that he could not yet in the least appreciate, and all were looking on and laughing at him for his embarrassment. The phrenologist proceeded, feeling for the bumps around his head, and, stopping once in a while to make his mental deductions, would then run his fingers along again. Jim’s courage began to rally a little, seeing that there was to be nothing more than that sort of manipulation, and he relieved himself vastly by turning a little of his wit upon the operator, for a thing that looked to him so exceedingly ridiculous and absurd, by telling him “I don’t think you’ll find any in my head; we Indians shave a great part of our hair off, and we keep so much oil in the rest of it, that they won’t live there: you will find much more in white men’s heads, who don’t oil their hair.” This set the whole party and all of us in a roar, and Jim’s head shook so as to embarrass the operator for a little time. When he got through, and entered his estimates in his book, Jim asked him “if he found anything in his head?” to which he replied in the affirmative. Placing his fingers on “self-esteem,” he said there was great fulness there. “Well,” said Jim, “I’m much obliged to you: I’ll set my wife to look there by and by. And now,” said Jim, “take the old Doctor here: his head is full of em.” By this time Jim’s jokes had got us all into a roar of laughter, and the Doctor was in the chair, and Jim looking on to see what he could discover. White Cloud thought Jim had cracked his jokes long enough, and as they had all laughed at them, he considered it most respectful now to let the man go through with it. So he finished with the Doctor and then with White Cloud and the War-chief, and when he came to the women they positively declined.
Jim, having been rebuked for laughing too much, had stopped suddenly, and, instantly resolving to try his jokes upon the poor man in another mood, assumed, as he easily could, the most treacherous and assassin look that the human face can put on, and asked the phrenologist if he was done, to which he replied “Yes.” “Now,” said Jim, “we have all waited upon you and given you a fair chance, and I now want you to sit down a minute and let me examine your head;” at the same time drawing his long scalping knife out from his belt, and wiping its blade as he laid it in a chair by the side of him. The phrenologist, having instantly consented, and just taking possession of the chair as he was drawing his knife out, could not well do otherwise than sit still for Jim’s operations, though he was evidently in a greater trepidation than he had put Jim into by the first experiment that was made. Jim took the requisite time in his manipulations to crack a few jokes more among his fellow Indians upon the quackery of his patient, and then to let him up, telling him, for the amusement of those around, that “his face looked very pale” (which by the way was the case), “and that he found his head very full of them.”
The phrenologist was a good-natured sort of man, and, only partially understanding their jokes, was delighted to get off with what he had learned, without losing his scalp-lock, which it would seem as if he had apprehended at one moment to have been in some danger. As he was leaving the room, Daniel came in, announcing that there were two Catholic clergymen in the room below, where they had been waiting half an hour to have some talk with the Indians. “Let them up,” says Jim; “I will make a speech to them:” at which the old Doctor sprang up. “There,” said he, “there’s my robe; lay down quick.” The Doctor’s wit raised a great laugh, but, when a moment had blown it away, Mr. Melody asked the chief what was his wish, whether to see them or not. “Oh yes,” said he (but rather painfully, and with a sigh); “yes, let them come in: we are in a strange country, and we don’t wish to make any enemies: let them come up.” They were then conducted up and spent half an hour in pleasant conversation with the chiefs, without questioning them about their religion, or urging their own religion upon them. This pleased the Indians very much, and, finding them such pleasant and social good-natured men, they felt almost reluctant to part company with them. Each of them left a handsome Bible as presents, and took affectionate leave.