With these views, and their eyes “half open,” then, they still took their daily drives, and Mr. Melody or myself, in constant company, stopping to show them, and to see ourselves, what was yet new and wonderful to be seen. There was still much to be seen in Paris, and the poor Indians were a great way from a complete knowledge of all the tricks and arts of civilization.
A drive to the School of Medicine and the Hôpital des Enfans Trouvés was enough for one morning’s recreation. The first, with “Dupuytren’s Room,” was enough to open the old Doctor’s eyes, and the latter, with its 6000 helpless and parentless infants added to it annually, sufficient to swell the orbs of Jim, and make him feel for his note-book. The School of Medicine, with Dupuytren’s Room, forms one of the most surprising sights to be seen in Paris, and yet, save with the Doctor, there seemed to be but little interest excited by the sight. The Doctor’s attitude was one of studied dignity and philosophic conceit as he stood before those wonderful preparations, not to be astonished, but to study as a critic, while he fanned himself with his eagle’s tail. The expression of his face, which was the whole time unchanged, was one of a peculiar kind, and, as it was not sketched at the time, must be for ever lost.
The novel and pitiful sight of the thousands of innocent little creatures in the Foundling Hospital seemed to open the “half-closed eyes” and the hearts of the Indians, notwithstanding the resolutions they had made. When it was explained to them how these little creatures came into the world, and then into this most noble institution, and also that in the last year there had been born in the city of Paris 26,000 children, 9000 of whom were illegitimate, their eyes were surely open to the astounding facts of the vices of civilized society, and of the virtue of civilized governments in building and maintaining such noble institutions for the support of the fatherless and helpless in infancy, as well as for the veterans who have been maimed in the fields of glorious battle. When I told them that, of those thousands of little playful children, not one knew any other parent than the Government, they groaned in sympathy for them, and seemed at a loss to abhor or applaud the most, the sins of man that brought them into the world, or the kind and parental care that was taken of them by the Government of the country. Jim made a sure demand upon Daniel’s kindness for the entry of these important facts, which he soon had in round and conspicuous numbers in his note-book, to teach to the “cruel and relentless Indians.”
The sentimentalism and sympathy of the poor old Doctor were touched almost to melancholy by this scene; and in his long and serious cogitations on it he very gravely inquired why the thousands of women leading and petting little dogs in the streets could not be induced to discharge their dogs, and each one take a little child and be its mother? He said, if he were to take a Frenchwoman for his wife, he would rather take her with a little child, even if it were her own, than take her with a little dog.
The guillotine, which happened to be in our way, and which they had been promised a sight of, they thought was more like a Mississippi saw-mill than anything else they had seen. It drew a murmur or two when explained to them how the victim was placed, and his head rolled off when the knife fell, but seemed to have little further effect upon them except when the actual number was mentioned to them whose heads are there severed from their bodies annually, for their crimes committed in the streets and houses of Paris. Our stay before this awful and bloody machine was but short, and of course their remarks were few, until they got home, and their dinner was swallowed, and their chickabobboo, and, reclining on their buffalo robes, the pipe was passing around.
Their conversation was then with Daniel, who had been but the day before to see the very same things, and they gained much further information than we did, which he communicated to them. He entered in Jim’s book, as he had desired, the numbers of the illegitimates and foundlings of Paris, which seemed to be a valuable addition to his estimates of the blessings of civilization; and also the number of annual victims whose heads roll from the side of the guillotine. His book was then closed, and a curious discussion arose between the Indians and Daniel, whether the gallows, which they had seen in the prisons in England and Ireland, was a preferable mode of execution to that of the guillotine, which they had just been to see. They had no doubt but both of them, or, at least, that one or the other of them was absolutely necessary in the civilized world; but the question was, which was the best. Daniel contended that the punishment which was most ignominious was best, and contended for the gallows, while the Indians thought the guillotine was the best. They thought that death was bad enough, without the Government trying to add to its pang by hanging people up by the neck with a rope, as the Indians hang dogs. From this grave subject, which they did not seem to settle, as there was no umpire, they got upon a somewhat parallel theme, and were quite as seriously engaged, when I was obliged to leave them, whether it would be preferable to be swallowed whole by a whale, or to be chewed. Daniel was referring to Scripture for some authority on this subject, by looking into one of Jim’s Bibles, when Mr. Melody and I were apprised of an appointment, which prevented us from ever hearing the result.
The next promise we had to keep with them was the one that had been made to take them to see the fountain of all the pretty and ugly little dogs and huge mastiffs they saw carried and led through the streets of Paris—the “Dog Market.”
The Dog Hospital, being en route, was visited first; and though one could scarcely imagine what there could be there that was amusing or droll, still the old Doctor insisted on it that it must be very interesting, and all resolved to go. It was even so, and on that particular occasion was rendered very amusing, when the Doctor entered, with Jim and the rest following. The squalling of “There! there! there!” by the frightened parrots in Cross’s Zoological Gardens bore little comparison to the barking and yelling of “les petits pauvres chiens,” and the screams of the old ladies—“Ne les effrayez pas, Messieurs, s'il vous plaît! ils sont tous malades—tous malades: pauvres bêtes! pauvres bêtes!” It was soon perceived that the nerves of the poor little “malades,” as well as those of the old women their doctors, were too much affected to stand the shock, and it was thought best to withdraw. The old Doctor, getting just a glance at the sick-wards, enough to convince him of the clean comforts these little patients had, and seeing that their physicians were females, and also that the wards were crowded with fashionable ladies looking and inquiring after the health of their little pets, he was quite reluctant to leave the establishment without going fairly in and making his profession known, which he had thought would, at least, command him some respect amongst female physicians. He had some notion for this purpose of going in alone, but sarcastic Jim said the whole fright of the poor dogs had been produced by his appearance; to which the Doctor replied that they only barked because Jim was coming behind him. However, our visit was necessarily thus short, and attention directed to the Dog Market, for which Jim was more eager, as he had a special object. This was a curiosity, to be sure, and well worth seeing; there was every sort of whelp and cur that could be found in Christendom, from the veriest minimum of dog to the stateliest mastiff and Newfoundland; and, at Jim and the Doctor’s approach, hundreds of them barked and howled, many broke their strings, some laid upon their backs, and yelled (no doubt, if one could have understood their language) that they never saw before in their lives so ill-looking and frightful a couple, and so alarming a set as those who were following behind them. Jim wanted to buy, and, the business-meaning of his face being discovered, there were all sorts of offers made him, and every kind of pup protruded into his face; but the barking of dogs was such that no one could be heard, and then many a poor dog was knocked flat with a broom, or whatever was handiest, and others were choked, to stop their noise. No one wanted to stand the din of this canine Bedlam longer than was necessary for Jim to make his choice, which the poor fellow was endeavouring to do with the greatest despatch possible. His mode was rather different from the ordinary mode of testing the qualities he was looking for, which was by feeling of the ribs; and having bargained for one that he thought would fit him, the lookers-on were somewhat amused at his choice. He made them understand by his signs that they were going to eat it, when the poor woman screamed out, “Diable! mange pas! mange pas!—venez, venez, ma pauvre bête!”
The crowd by this time was becoming so dense that it was thought advisable to be on the move, and off. The Doctor became exceedingly merry at Jim’s expense, as he had come away without getting a dog for their Dog Feast, of which they had been for some time speaking.
On their return from this day’s drive, they met, to their very great surprise, their old friend Bobasheela, who had left his business and crossed the Channel to see them once more before they should set sail for America. He said he could not keep away from them long at a time while they were in this country, because he loved them so much. They were all delighted to see him, and told him he was just in time to attend the Dog Feast, which they were going to have the next day. The Doctor told him of Jim’s success in buying a dog, and poor Jim was teazed a great deal about his failure. Bobasheela told them all the news about England, and Jim and the Doctor had a long catalogue to give him of their visit to the King—of their medals—their visits to the great fountain of chickabobboo and the Foundling Hospital, all of which he told him he had got down in his book. All this delighted Bobasheela, until they very imprudently told him that they liked Paris much better than London. They told him that the people in Paris did not teaze them so much about religion; that there were fewer poor people in the streets; and that as yet they had kept all their money, for they had seen nobody poor enough to give it to. Their chickabobboo was very different, but it was about as good. The guillotine they were very well satisfied with, as they considered it much better to cut men’s heads off than to hang them up, like dogs, by a rope around the neck. This, and keeping men in prison because they owe money, they considered were the two most cruel things they heard of amongst the English.