The Author returns to his little children in Paris--His loss of
time and money--The three Indian speculations--His efforts
to promote the interests of the Indians, and the persons who
brought them to Europe--His advice to other persons wishing
to engage in similar enterprises--The Author retires to his
atelier, and paints the fifteen pictures for the King--The
pleasure of quiet and retirement with his four little
children around him--He offers his Indian Collection to the
American Government--And sends his memorial to Congress--Bill
reported in favour of the purchase--The Author has an
interview with the King in the Tuileries--Delivers the fifteen
pictures--Subjects of the pictures painted--Conversations
with the King--Reflections upon his extraordinary life--The
Author's thoughts, while at his easel, upon scenes of his
life gone by--And those that were about him, as he strolled,
with his little children, through the streets and society of
Paris--Distressing and alarming illness of the Author's four
little children--Kindness of sympathizing friends--Death of
"little George"--His remains sent to New York, and laid by the
side of his mother--A father's tears and loneliness--The Author
returns with his Collection to London.
The commencement of this chapter finds me at my easel, in a comfortable
_atelier_ in my own apartments in Paris, where I had retired, with my
little children about me, to paint the fifteen pictures for the King,
and others for which I had some standing orders.
My collection was at this time placed in a magazine in the vicinity of
my dwelling, and my faithful man Daniel still continued his charge over
it, keeping it in repair, and plying between it and my painting-room
when I required models from my collection to work from.
The true measure of ordinary happiness I have long believed to be
the amount of distress or anxiety we have escaped from; and in this
instance I felt, retired from the constant anxieties I had lived under
for the last six or seven years, demanding all my time, and holding my
hand from my easel, as if I could be happy, even in my grief, with my
four dear little children around me, whom their kind mother had but a
few months before, in her dying breath, committed to my sole keeping
and protection.
My house, though there was a gloom about it, had a melancholy charm
from its associations, whilst its halls were enlivened by the notes of
my little innocents, who were just old enough for my amusement, and too
young fully to appreciate the loss they had sustained, and whose little
arms were now concentrated about my neck, as the only one to whom they
claimed kindred and looked for protection.
My dear little namesake, George, and my only boy, then three years and
a half old, was my youngest, and, being the only one of my little flock
to perpetuate my name, had adopted my painting-room as his constant
play-house, and, cronies as we had become there, our mutual enjoyment
was as complete as my happiness was, in the dependence I was placing on
him for the society of my future days. His first passion, like that of
most children, had been for the drum, with which, slung upon his back,
with drumsticks in hand, he made my _atelier_ and apartments ring, and
never was happier or more proud than when we addressed him as "Tambour
Major," by which name he familiarly went, and to which he as promptly
answered.
Besides the company of this dear little fellow, I had the sweet society
of my three little girls, of ten, eight, and six years old, and with
all, and the pleasures at my easel, I counted myself in the enjoyments
of life that I would have been unwilling for any consideration to
part with. I thus painted on, dividing my time between my easel, my
little children, and the few friends I had in Paris, resolving and
re-resolving to devote the remainder of my life to my art, being
in possession of the fullest studies from nature to enable me to
illustrate the early history of my country in its various dealings
with the Indian tribes of America; and in these labours I also with
pleasure resolved to continue my efforts to do justice to their
character and their memory.
The American Congress was at that time in session, with a surplus
revenue in the treasury of more than 12,000,000 of dollars; and,
deeming it an auspicious time, I proposed the sale of my collection by
my Memorial, to that body, believing there was sympathy enough for the
poor Indians in my country, and disposition to preserve all the records
of this dying race, to induce the Congress to purchase the collection
as connected with the history of the country.
I had been stimulated, the whole time whilst making the collection,
with the hope that it would be perpetuated on the soil where these
ill-fated people have lived and perished; and was constantly encouraged
in my labours with the belief that such would be the case.
On my Memorial, a Bill was reported by the Joint Committee on the
Library, complimenting me in the strongest terms, and recommending its
purchase; but, owing to the sudden commencement of the Mexican war at
that time, no action was had upon it, and it now remains to be seen
whether the Government will take it up again, or whether the collection
will be left, because more highly appreciated, in a foreign land. My
unavoidable belief still is, that some measure will be adopted for its
preservation in my native country, a monument to those people who have
bequeathed to the United States all her dominions, and who are rapidly
wasting away; though I have fears that the call for it may be too late,
either to gratify my ambition to see it perpetuated amongst the records
of my country, or to enable me to feel the reward for my hard labour.
The Bill reported in the Congress I have taken the liberty to insert
here, for the very high compliment it conveys, as well as for the
benefit it may in some way afford me by the value therein set upon my
works.
BILL reported in the AMERICAN CONGRESS, 1846, for the Purchase of
CATLIN'S INDIAN GALLERY, July 24th, 1846. Read and laid upon the
table. Mr. W. W. CAMPBELL, from the Joint Committee on the Library,
made the following REPORT:--
_The Joint Committee on the Library, to whom was referred the
Memorial of Mr. Catlin for the purchase of his Gallery of Indian
Collections and Paintings; and also the Memorial of American artists
abroad, and of American citizens resident in London, respectfully
report--_
That of Mr. Catlin, who desires to place, on certain conditions, his
extensive collection of Indian portraits, costumes, and other objects
of interest connected with Indian life, in the possession of the
Government, it is hardly necessary to speak, since his reputation is
established throughout this country and Europe. A native of the state
of Pennsylvania, his early studies were directed to the law, which,
under an impulse of enthusiasm that often marks original genius,
he soon abandoned for the pencil, stimulated by desire to give to
his country exact and spirited representations of the persons,
costumes, ceremonies, and homes of the aboriginal inhabitants of this
continent, now retreating and gradually vanishing away before the
power of civilization. Nor did he devote himself to his enterprises
merely to gratify curiosity and preserve memorials of a bold,
independent, and remarkable race of men, but to direct attention
to certain lofty traits of their character, and excite, generally,
friendly sentiments and efforts for their benefit. In making this
collection, he expended eight entire years of his life and 20,000
dollars, and visited, often at great hazard of his personal safety,
more than forty different (and most of them remote) tribes. Unaided
by public or private patronage, he pursued and effected his object,
sustained, as he observes, by the ambition of procuring a full
and complete pictorial history of a numerous and interesting race
of human beings rapidly sinking into oblivion, and encouraged by
the belief that the collection would finally be appropriated and
protected by the Government of his own country, as a monument to
a race once sole proprietors of this country, but who will soon
have yielded it up, and with it probably their existence also, to
civilized man.
On Mr. Catlin's return from the western prairies, the attention of
Congress was, in 1837 and 1838, turned towards his collection, and a
resolution for its purchase was moved in the House, and referred to
the Committee on Indian Affairs, who, it is understood, expressed in
their report an unanimous opinion in favour of the purchase, though
the near approach of the close of the session prevented its being
submitted for consideration.
In transferring his collection to Europe, Mr. Catlin had no intention
of alienating it, or changing its nationality and destination; but,
by its exhibition, sought to secure support for his family, and
obtain means of bringing out his great and expensive work on the
Indians--a work which has thrown much light upon their character and
customs, and been received with distinguished favour on both sides of
the Atlantic.
The judgment of our citizens, and that of eminent foreigners,
is concurrent in regard to the value of this collection for the
illustration of our history, and as a work of art. By desire of the
King of France, it now occupies a gallery in the Louvre, and has been
highly eulogized by the most distinguished artists and men of science
in Paris. A large gold medal has been presented to Mr. Catlin by the
King of the Belgians, with a letter expressing a high opinion of his
productions.
The American artists now in Paris, in a memorial addressed to
Congress, urging the importance of securing this collection to our
country, say, "Having made ourselves acquainted with the extent and
interest of this unique collection, and of its peculiar interest
to our country; and also aware of the encouraging offers now made
to its proprietor for its permanent establishment in England, as
well as the desire generally manifested here to have it added to
the historical gallery of Versailles, we have ventured to unite in
the joint expression of our anxiety that the members of the present
Congress may pass some resolution that may be the means of restoring
so valuable a collection to our country, and fixing it among its
records. Interesting to our countrymen generally, it is absolutely
necessary to American artists. The Italian who wishes to portray the
history of Rome finds remnants of her sons in the Vatican; the French
artist can study the ancient Gauls in the museums of the Louvre; and
the Tower of London is rich in the armour and weapons of the Saxon
race.
"Your memorialists, therefore, most respectfully trust that Mr.
Catlin's collection may be purchased and cherished by the Federal
Government, as a nucleus for a national museum, where American
artists may freely study that bold race who once held possession of
our country, and who are so fast disappearing before the tide of
civilization. Without such a collection, few of the glorious pages of
our early history can be illustrated, while the use made of it here
by French artists, in recording upon canvas the American discoveries
of their countrymen in the last century, shows its importance."
Your Committee feel the justice of these sentiments of American
artists, and also the importance, as suggested in their memorial,
of securing, by the purchase of his collection, the future efforts
of Mr. Catlin for its enlargement. Let the Government appropriate
his collection, and the chief ambition of its author's life will be
realized, and he will be enabled, in a few years, to double it in
value and extent.
The bill which has recently passed the House for the establishment
of the Smithsonian Institution provides that there shall belong to
it a "gallery of art;" and of course it must be intended that such
gallery shall be occupied by works of art. That such works should
be principally American, is the obvious dictate of patriotism.
No productions, your Committee believe, at present exist, more
appropriate to this gallery than those of Mr. Catlin, or of equal
importance. Should Congress fail to act on this subject, or decide
unfavourably to Mr. Catlin's proposal, he may, notwithstanding his
reluctance, be compelled to accept the positive and advantageous
offers now made to him in England.
The love of art, and respect for those who have cultivated it
with success, especially for those who have illustrated, by their
productions, the history of their country, have ever been cherished
by the most civilized nations. It has been justly observed, that
"among the Greeks the arts were not so much objects to promote
gratification as of public interest; they were employed as the most
powerful stimulants of piety and patriotism, commissioned to confer
distinction upon those who were conspicuous for valour, for wisdom,
and for virtue. A statue or picture gave celebrity to a city or a
state, and a great artist was considered a national ornament--a
public benefactor, whom all were bound to honour and reward."
Your Committee believe the price of his collection, as named by Mr.
Catlin, is moderate, and that a failure to obtain it would occasion
deep regret to all the friends of art, and to all Americans who
reasonably and justly desire to preserve memorials of the Indian
race, or the means by which our future artists and historians may
illustrate the great and most interesting events in the early periods
and progress of our country.
The Committee, therefore, recommend that the bill for the
establishment of the Smithsonian Institute be so amended as that
provision shall be made therein for the purchase of Mr. Catlin's
gallery at the price mentioned by him--namely, sixty-five thousand
dollars--payable in annual instalments of ten thousand dollars.
_New York Journal of Commerce, Nov. 12th._
When I had completed the pictures ordered by the King, his Majesty
graciously granted me an audience in the Palace of the Tuileries to
deliver them, on which occasion he met me with great cheerfulness,
and, having received from me a verbal description of each picture, he
complimented me on the spirit of their execution, and expressed the
highest satisfaction with them, and desired me to attach to the back of
each a full written description. The dimensions of these paintings were
30 by 36 inches, and the subjects as follow:--
No. 1. An Indian ball-play.
2. A Sioux Council of War.
3. Buffalo-hunt on snow-shoes.
4. _Mah-to-toh-pa_ (the Four Bears), a Mandan chief, full length.
5. A Buffalo-hunt, Sioux.
6. Eagle-dance, and view of Ioway village.
7. _Mah-to-he-ha_ (the Old Bear), a medicine-man of the Mandans.
8. _Wan-ee-ton_, one of the most distinguished chiefs of the Sioux.
9. _Ee-ah-sa-pa_ (the Black Rock), a Sioux chief, full length.
10. _Mu-hu-shee-kaw_ (the White Cloud), Ioway chief.
11. _Shon-ta-ye-ee-ga_ (the Little Wolf), an Ioway warrior.
12. _Wa-tah-we-buck-a-nah_ (the Commanding General), an Ioway boy.
13. _Maun-gua-daus_, an Ojibbeway chief.
14. _Say-say-gon_ (the Hail Storm), an Ojibbeway warrior.
15. _Ah-wun-ne-wa-be_ (the Thunder-bird), Ojibbeway warrior.
His Majesty had on several occasions, in former interviews, spoken
of the great interest of the scenes of the early history of the
French colonies of America, and French explorations and discoveries
in those regions, and the subject was now resumed again, as one
of peculiar interest, affording some of the finest scenes for the
pencil of the artist, which he thought I was peculiarly qualified to
illustrate. Additional anecdotes of his rambling life in America were
very humorously related; and after the interview I returned to my
painting-room, and continued happily engaged at my other pictures, with
my familiar sweet smiles and caresses about me.
As a painter often works at his easel with a double thought, one upon
the subject he is creating upon the canvas, and the other upon the
world that is about him, I kept constantly at work, and pleasantly
divided my extra thoughts upon the amusing little tricks that were
being played around me, and the contemplation of scenes and events of
my life gone by. I ran over its table of contents in this way: "My
native valley of Wyoming--the days and recollections of my earliest
boyhood in it--my ten years in the valley of the _Oc-qua-go_, where
I held alternately the plough, my rifle, and fishing-tackle--my
five years at the classics--my siege with Blackstone and Coke upon
Littleton--my three years' practice of the law in the Courts of
Pennsylvania--the five years' practice of my art of portrait-painting
in Philadelphia--my eight years spent amongst the Indian tribes of
the prairies and Rocky Mountains--and, since that, my eight years
spent in the light of the refined and civilized world, where I have
been admitted to Palaces, and into the society of Kings, Queens, and
Princes--and _now_ at my easel, in my studio, with my dear little
babes around me, thanking Him who has blessed me with them, and courage
and health, through all the vicissitudes of my chequered life, and now
with strength to stand by and support and protect them."
I thought also of the King, the wonderful man, with whose benignant and
cheerful face I had been so often conversing; whose extraordinary life
had been so much more chequered than my own; many of whose early days
had been spent on the broad rivers and amongst the dense and gloomy
forests of my own country; who, driven by political commotions from
his native land, sought an asylum in the United States of America,
and there, in the youthful energy of his native character, 52 years
ago, crossed and re-crossed the Alleghany Mountains, descended the
Ohio river 600 miles in his simple and rickety pirogue, and from the
mouth of the Ohio to New Orleans, 1000 miles on the muddy waves of
the Mississippi, amidst its dangerous snags and sand-bars, when the
banks of those two mighty rivers were inhabited only by savages, whose
humble wigwams he entered, and shared their hospitality; who afterwards
visited the shores of Lake Erie, and also the Falls of Niagara, before
the axe of sacrilegious man had shorn it of its wild and native
beauties; who visited the little commencement of the town of Buffalo
and the village of the Seneca Indians; who paddled his canoe 90 miles
through the Seneca Lake to Ithaca, and from thence travelled by an
Indian's path, with his knapsack on his back, to the Susquehana river,
which he descended in an Indian canoe to Wyoming, my native valley;
and then on foot, with his knapsack again upon his back, crossed the
Wilkesbarre and Pokono Mountains to Easton and Philadelphia; and who
consequently thus knew, 52 years ago, more of the great western regions
of America, and of the modes of its people, than one of a thousand
Americans do at the present day.
I contemplated the character of this extraordinary man, reared in
the luxuries of Palaces, thrown thus into the midst of the vast and
dreary forests of the Mississippi, launching his fragile boat and
staking his life upon its dangerous waves, and laying his wearied limbs
upon its damp and foggy banks at night, amidst the howling wolves and
rattlesnakes and mosquitoes; and after that, and all these adventures,
called, in the commotions of his country, to mount the throne and wield
the sceptre over one of the greatest and most enlightened nations of
the earth. I beheld this great man in these strange vicissitudes of
life, and France, whose helm he took in the midst of a tempest, now
raised to the zenith of her national wealth and glory, after 17 years
of uninterrupted peace and prosperity. I contemplated the present
wealth and health of that nation and her institutions, her grand
internal improvements, and cultivation of science and the arts; and
I reflected also, with equal pleasure and surprise, on what I had
seen with my own eyes, the _greatness of soul_ of that monarch as he
was taking the poor Indians of the forest by the hand in his Palace,
and expressing to them the gratitude he never yet had lost sight of,
that he bore them for the kindness with which their tribes everywhere
treated him when he entered their wigwams, hungry, on the banks of the
Mississippi and the great lakes in America. He had the frankness and
truthfulness to tell them that "he loved them," for the reasons he had
given, and the kindness of heart to convince them of his sincerity in
the way that carries the most satisfactory conviction to the mind of an
Indian as well as it often does to that of a white man.
These contemplations were rapid and often repeated, and there were
many more; and they never passed through my mind without compelling me
to admire and revere the man whose energy of character and skill have
enabled him, with like success, to steer his pirogue amidst the snags
of the Mississippi, and at the helm of his nation, to guide her out of
the tempest of a revolution, and onward, through a reign of peace and
industry, to wealth and power, to which she never before has attained.
In the midst of such reflections I often strolled alone in
a contemplative mood through the wilderness throngs of the
Boulevards--the great central avenue and crossing-place--the _aorta_
of all the circulating world--to gaze upon the endless throng of human
beings sweeping by me, bent upon their peculiar avocations of business
or of pleasure--of virtue or of vice; contrasting the glittering views
about me with the quiet and humble scenes I had witnessed in various
parts of my roaming life.
In the midst of this sweeping throng, knowing none and unknown, I found
I could almost imagine myself in the desert wilderness, with as little
to disturb the current of contemplative thoughts as if I were floating
down the gliding current of the Missouri in my bark canoe, in silent
contemplation of the rocks and forests on its banks.
In a different mood, also, I as often left my easel and mingled with
the throng, with my little chattering children by my side, forgetting
to think, and with eyes like theirs, scanned the thousands and tens
of thousands of pretty things displayed in the shops, and whiled away
in perfect bliss, as others do, an hour upon the pavements of the
Boulevards.
The reader has learned, from various books, the features of this
splendid scene, with all its life and din and glittering toys, and of
Paris, with its endless mysteries, and beauties, and luxuries, and
vices, which it is not the province of this work to describe; but from
all that he has read he may not yet know how completely he may be lost
sight of in the crowds of the Boulevards, and what positive retirement
he may find and enjoy, unknowing and unknown, if he wishes to do so,
in his apartments in the centre of Paris, where his neighbours are
certainly the nearest and most numerous in the world.
In London and New York one often thinks it strange that he knows not
his neighbours by the side of him; but in Paris, those on the _sides_
are seldom taken into consideration as such, and so little do people
know of, or care for, each other's business, that few have any
acquaintance with their neighbours ABOVE and BELOW them.
The circumscribed limits of the city, and the density of its
population, enable the Parisians to make a glittering display in the
streets, in the brilliancy and taste of which they no doubt outdo any
other people in the world. The close vicinity of its inhabitants,
and the facility with which they get into the streets, and the tens
of thousands of inducements that tempt them there, tend to the
concentration of fashion and gaiety in the principal avenues and
arcades, which, in the pleasant evenings of spring and summer, seem
converted into splendid and brilliant salons, with the appearance of
continuous and elegant soirées. To these scenes all Parisians and all
foreigners are alike admitted, to see and enjoy the myriads of sights
to be seen in the shop-windows, as well as to most of the splendid
collections of works of literature and the arts, which, being under
the Government control, are free to the inspection of all who wish to
see them. Amidst most of these I have been, like thousands of others,
a visitor and admirer for two years, seeking for information and
amusement--for study and contemplation--alone; or enjoying them in
company with my little children, or travelling friends, for whose aid
and amusement I have as often given my time.
The reader will here see that I have before me the materials for
another book, but as the object of this work is attained, and its
limits approached, with my known aversion to travel over frequented
ground, I must refer him to other pens than mine for what I might have
written had I the room for it, and had it not been written twenty times
before.
The little bit of my life thus spent in the capital of France, though
filled with anxieties and grief, has had its pleasant parts, having
seen much to instruct and amuse me, and having also met with, as in
London, many warm friends, to whom I shall feel attached as long as
I live. In the English society in Paris I met a number of my London
friends, where the acquaintance was renewed, with great kindness on
their parts, and with much pleasure to myself.
I met also many American families residing in Paris; and, added to
their numbers, the constant throng of Americans who are passing to
and from the classic ground of the East, or making their way across
the Atlantic to the French metropolis, and swelling their occasional
overflowing and cheerful soirées. At these I saw many of the élite and
fashionable of the French, and noticed also, and much to my regret, as
well as surprise, that, in the various intercourse I had in different
classes, the Americans generally mixed less with the English than the
French society.
This is probably attributable in a great degree to the passion which
English and Americans have, in their flying visits to the city of all
novelties, to see and study something new, instead of spending their
valuable time with people of their own family and language, whom and
whose modes they can see at home. This I deem a pity; and though among
the passing travellers the cause is easily applied, and the excuse
as easily accepted, yet among the resident English and Americans, of
whom there are a great many and fashionable families, there seems a
mutual unsocial and studied reserve, which stands in the way of much
enjoyment, that I believe lies at the doors of kindred people in a
foreign land.
My time, however, was so much engrossed with anxieties and grief and my
application to my art, that I shared but moderately in the pleasures
of any society; and the few observations I have been able to make I
have consequently drawn from less intercourse than has been had by many
others, who have more fully described than I could do had this book
been written for the purpose.
My interviews with society in this part of the world, as far as they
have been held, have been general, and my observations, I believe, have
been unbiassed. And as I mingled with society to see and enjoy, but not
to describe, my remarks in this place, on the society and manners of
Parisians and people in Paris, must end here, and necessarily be thus
brief, to come within the bounds of my intentions in commencing this
work.
The society which fascinated me most and called for all my idle hours
was that of my four dear little children, whose arms, having been for
ever torn from the embrace of an affectionate mother, were ready to
cling to my neck whenever I quitted the toils of my painting-room.
There was a charm in that little circle of society which all the
fascinations of the fashionable world could never afford me, and I
preferred the simple happiness that was thus sweetly spread around me
to the amusements and arts of matured and fashionable life.
The days and nights and weeks and months of my life were passing on
whilst my house rang with the constant notes of my little girls and my
dear little "Tambour Major," producing a glow of happiness in my life,
as its hours were thus carolled away, which I never before had attained
to.
My happiness was here too complete to last long, and, as the sequel
will show, like most precious gifts, was too confidently counted on
to continue. A sudden change came over this pleasing dream of life;
the cheering notes of my little companions were suddenly changed into
groans, and my occupations at my easel were at an end. The chirping
and chattering in the giddy maze of their little dances were finished,
and, having taken to their beds, my occupation was changed to their
bedsides, where they were all together writhing in the agonies of
disease, and that of so serious a nature as to require all my attention
by night and by day, and at length anxieties of the most painful kind,
and alarm--of grief, and a broken heart!
To those of my readers who have ever set their whole heart upon and
identified their existence with that of a darling little boy, and wept
for him, it is unnecessary--and to those who have never been blessed
with such a gift it would be useless--for me to name the pangs that
broke my heart for the fate of my little "Tambour Major," who, in that
unlucky hour, thoughtlessly relinquishing all his little toys, laid
down with his three little sisters, to run the chances with them, and
then to be singled out as he was by the hand of death.
In kindness the reader will pardon these few words that flow in tears
from the broken and burning heart of a fond father; they take but a
line or two, and are the only monument that will be raised to the
memory of my dear little George, who lived, in the sweetness of his
innocence, to gladden and then to break the heart of his doating
parent, the only one while he was living, to appreciate his loveliness,
and now the only one to mourn for him. The remains of this dear little
fellow were sent to New York, as a lovely flower to be planted by the
grave of his mother, and thus were my pleasures and peace in Paris
ended. Two idols of my heart had thus vanished from me there, leaving
my breast with a _healing_ and a _fresh wound_, to be opened and
bleeding together. My _atelier_ had lost all its charms; the _escalier_
also was dreary, for its wonted echoing and enlivening notes had
ceased; and the beautiful pavement of the Place Madeleine, which was
under my windows, and the daily resort, with his hoop and his drum, of
my little "Tambour Major."
The Boulevards also, and the Champs Elysées, and the garden of the
Tuileries, the scenes of our daily enjoyment, were overcast with a
gloom, and I left them all.
* * * * *
At the time of writing this my heart flies back and daily hovers about
the scenes of so many endearing associations, while my hand is at work
seeking amusement and forgetfulness at my easel.
I have before said that the practice of my art is to be the principal
ambition of the rest of my life; and as the beginning of this chapter
found me in my _atelier_ in Paris, the end of it leaves me in my
_studio_ at _No. 6, Waterloo Place_, in London, with my collection, my
thousands of studies, and my little children about me where I shall
be hereafter steadily seeking the rational pleasures and benefits I
can draw from them; and where my friends and the world who value me or
my works may find me without ceremony, and will be greeted, amongst
the numerous and curious works in my collection, enumerated in the
catalogue which I have given, for the amusement and benefit of the
reader, at the end of my first volume.
APPENDIX. (A.)
_The two following Letters, written from the Ioway Mission on the
Upper Missouri, with several others more recently received by
Mrs. A. Richardson, of Newcastle-on-Tyne, bear conclusive proof
of the sincerity of the Society of Friends, and of the benefit
that promises to flow from their well-directed and charitable
exertions._
IOWAY INDIANS.
EXTRACT OF A LETTER FROM S. M. IRVIN.
_Ioway and Sac Mission, May 24th, 1847._
Having a leisure morning, I most cheerfully give a few minutes to my
dear friend in England. I have just been thinking, before I took my
pen, how very mysterious are the workings of God's providence! Near
four years ago, a party of our Ioway Indians started out on what
appeared to us to be a wrong and uncalled-for expedition. We dreaded
the result, and, so far as our opinion was consulted, it was given
against the design, advising rather that they should stay at home, go
to labour and economy, and not go to be shown as wild animals. In these
notions we thought we were sustained by reason and Scripture, and were
at least sincere in our views. We, however, made but little resistance,
and when it was determined that they should go we submitted, did what
we could for their comfort and success, gave them the parting hand,
and commended them to the care of a merciful Providence. They started,
spent the winter in St. Louis and New Orleans, associated with bad
company, were exceedingly intemperate, and seemed to have grown much
worse, which tended to confirm us in the belief of the error and
impropriety of such a measure, and our hearts mourned over them. In
the spring they went to the eastern part of the United States, and
from thence to England. From the latter place we heard of the death of
one and another, and of a probability of their going to France, and
becoming enchained with the externals of the Catholic religion. Here
we thought our opinions were fully confirmed. How can any good result
from this? How much harm must ensue to these poor people, and probably
through them to their nation!
But at this point a ray of light seemed to break forth, and we could
see through the dark vista a possibility of good resulting from
it. Hitherto we could only trust in the government of God, knowing
that He would bring good out of evil, but we could not see by what
process it could be accomplished. But we now began to learn that the
people of England, particularly the Society of Friends, were taking
a warm interest in their welfare, stimulating their minds in favour
of industry, economy, and Christianity, and especially guarding
them against the pernicious effects of ardent spirits. There the
foundation of hope, on rational and tangible principles, commenced.
Perhaps the friends of God and his cause in England were to be the
honoured instruments of making an indelible impression on the minds
of these poor wanderers, and, if so, how well will they be repaid
for their pilgrimage, and how happily shall we be disappointed! Next
came an affectionate letter from your own hand. This was the second
development of the unseen but operating hand of God in carrying on
his own work. A young man of ardent piety and devotion to the cause
of God was next recommended as a suitable person to come and labour
among the Indians as missionary from England. I may say that the whole
mystery was now plain. We could now say to each other, God has taken
them over to England to send a suitable missionary, whose labours will
be, doubtless, blessed to their conversion, and thus we could see how
easily God, our _covenant-keeping God_, can foil the designs of Satan.
How our hearts did burn within us when we thought of the goodness of
God in these things! The original design we could not but look upon
as a work of the enemy, got up for the purpose of selfishness and
speculation, but now we could see the scale turn, and the pleasing
prospect of hailing our young brother as a fellow-helper in this cause
more than reconciled us to the hitherto mysterious movement. He came,
and, though it was found best under the circumstances to assign him
for a time to a different field of labour, still it is the same common
cause, whether among the Otoes or Ioways.
Very important pecuniary aid, both in money and clothing, was also
subsequently received, from which our cause has, in no small degree,
been aided and encouraged. Next a helpmate is proposed for our young
friend, who is here alone, and toiling against the trials of a new
and strange society and manners, and the prejudices of the Indians.
God, through suitable instrumentality, conducts the negotiation to
a favourable issue; the solitary individual is strengthened to part
from her friends and country, is conducted by the hand of God across
the dangerous deep, is brought more than 2000 miles, and, by a great
variety of hazardous conveyances, almost to the centre of a great
continent, and is now safely landed within the walls of this house.
Truly may we exclaim, What hath God wrought! But the wonders and cause
for gratitude stop not here. Our kind friend, Miss G., is not only
here, but already is she engaged, twice or thrice a-day, in instructing
the poor little daughters of the forest in needlework and such other
instruction as may be suitable, and as yet I see nothing in the way
but that she may very soon be able to give every moment of time that
she can spare to these little ones. How pleasing will this be! How
cheerfully and happily will the hours pass away, and how largely will
she be rewarded for all her toil! I have skipped, as you will see, with
more than eagle flight, over this narrative, for it furnishes materials
enough for an interesting volume. I should like much to dwell upon it,
but your mind can carry out the details, and see, as clearly as any
other, the lineaments of God's goodness.
Miss G. will have so much to say to you, that I am sure she will not
know where to commence, and I think she will be about as much puzzled
to describe many things so that you can understand.
Mr. Bloohm has not yet arrived from the Otoe mission, but we look for
him daily. So soon as I heard of Miss G.'s approach, I advised him
of it, but he, being about fifty miles from the post-office, may not
have received the letter. That you may better understand our relative
situations, I will subjoin a rude outline of them with the pen.
Miss G. remained some time in St. Louis for Mr. Lowrie, and was
afterwards instructed by him to come on to this place, he being
prevented, by low water, from calling for her at St. Louis. Last
Friday he passed up the Missouri river to the Otoe and Omahaw mission,
leaving word that he would be back, at the farthest, by the end of this
week. If Mr. Bloohm be able, he will come down with Mr. L., if not
before him. As soon as they arrive, we hope to be able to make full
arrangements about all our affairs, and you may expect to be informed
of all that will interest you in due time.
EXTRACT OF A LETTER FROM JANE M. BLOOHM.
_Ioway and Sac Mission, May 28th, 1847._
[After giving several interesting particulars of her journey from St.
Louis, and arrival at the station, the writer proceeds:--]
I feel assured, my dear friend, you would be pleased with this
institution. The boarding-house is a most excellent building, three
stories high. On the ground floor are the dining-room, kitchen, pantry,
milk-house, and two sleeping-rooms. On the second story, the chapel in
the centre, from back to front, and on one side the boys' school in
front, with two small rooms behind, which Mr. Hamilton occupies. On the
other side of the chapel is the girls' school, with two small rooms
behind it for Mr. Irvin. The third story has the girls' bedroom, back
and front, with a small one off it parted with deals, where I sleep.
The boys' on the other side is the same; in the middle is a spare
bedroom and Mr. Irvin's study.
We rise at five o'clock, and at half-past assemble in the chapel for
worship. While there, breakfast is placed on the table, and the bell
rings again, when we go down. There are four tables, but not all full
at present, as some of the children have left. Mr. Irvin sits at one
table with the boys, Mr. Hamilton and his lady (when able) with the
girls. Our table is called the family table; there are Mrs. Irvin,
their father and mother, Mrs. I.'s two children, Mrs. H.'s eldest
girl, the two men, and myself, as also any other strangers. Mr. Irvin's
father and mother are two very old people; they intend leaving as
soon as Mr. Lowrie comes, old Mr. I. not being able to manage the
farm now. At breakfast each child has a pewter plate, with a tin pot
turned upside down upon it, a knife and fork, and spoon. As soon as a
blessing is asked, they each turn over their tin pot, and those who
sit with them at table fill it with milk, and give them corn bread,
boiled corn, batten cake (which is much like our pancake), a piece of
bacon, and treacle. Of this they all eat as much as they like. Each
table is served the same, with the exception that we have coffee for
breakfast, and tea for supper. At dinner there is sometimes a little
boiled rice, greens, &c., but no other kind of meat than bacon. We dine
at half-past twelve, and sup at seven. After supper we all remain, and
have worship in the dining-room; sometimes Mr. Hamilton prays and sings
in Indian; and, oh! my beloved friend, could you only hear the sweet
voices of those dear heathen children, you would be astonished, they
sing so well. I do most sincerely hope that the day is not far distant
when they shall not only worship Him with the voice, but with the
understanding, and in truth.
Mr. H. teaches all the children from nine till twelve. After breakfast
I take the girls up to make their beds; two and two sleep together;
they did it so neatly this morning. When done, they go with me to
school to sew or knit till nine, then again after dinner till two, and
after five till supper-time, when I assist to wash their hands and
faces, and put them to bed. Some of them are very fine children, but
I am surprised I am able to go so near them, for they are very dirty;
but they seem very fond of me. You will laugh when I say that two or
three of them often come running to me, and clasp me round the waist.
They wish to teach me to speak their language; they can say a good
many English words; they call their teachers father and mother. A few
of them are very little. After I put on their nightcaps, and lift them
into bed, they all repeat a prayer. You will be surprised when I say
I do feel such an interest in them; I do wish these feelings may not
only continue, but increase. I feel quite happy, and have never had the
least feeling of regret at my coming out, and I trust I never shall.
Both Mr. and Mrs. Irvin are most desirous for us to remain here, but
that will rest with Mr. Lowrie and P. B. I am willing to go wherever
I am of most use. It is a most arduous and responsible office we each
hold, from the little I have seen (and it is but little to what I shall
see if the Lord spare me). We need the prayers of our dear friends. Oh!
forget us not, you, our far distant and beloved friends; entreat our
Heavenly Father to give us much of his Spirit, and to us help along.
Your old friend _Little Wolf_ came to see me. He said I might give his
and his family's love to you. A few more came to welcome me; they are
constantly coming about the house. I am just sent for to assist in the
ironing, and have had to write this while the irons were heating. There
is no mangle here. The children's clothes are washed and repaired every
week.
_May 31st._--Just as I finished the above on Friday afternoon, the
arrival of two gentlemen was announced. They were Mr. Lowrie and my
dear P. B. The latter is looking thin, but upon the whole is much
better, as also much better than I expected to find him; as for
colour, an Indian: but setting aside his Indian complexion, I was glad
to see a known face, and to meet a beloved friend; and now, my dear
friend, I can call him my beloved husband. The marriage took place on
Saturday the 29th, at eight o'clock in the evening, by Mr. Hamilton,
in Mr. Irvin's room. Old Mr. and Mrs. Irvin were there, Mr. and Mrs.
Irvin junior, Mr. Lowrie, Mr. Melody (who had come to the mission on
a visit), and one of the men, who had expressed a wish to be present.
Mrs. H. was not strong enough to join us, which I did regret. Mr.
Lowrie has settled for us to remain here, at least for some time;
P. B. to assist Mr. H. with the boys and other labour, while I take
the full charge of the girls. Oh! that we may each have strength to
perform these our arduous duties. The old people leave in a few days,
when we shall have their room, which is on the ground floor, close by
the dining-room. We shall have to sit at table with the children, and
should Mr. H. be from home or sick, at any time, we shall have the full
charge. We have, one and all, made up our minds to assist each other
when it is needful, and I do most sincerely pray that we may be enabled
to labour together in the same spirit which was in Christ Jesus. It
is His work, it is His cause; and we all, I trust, esteem our privilege
great, that we, unworthy as we are, should be permitted to take part
in this glorious work. Mr. Lowrie, I believe, intends leaving
to-morrow; it will be three weeks before he can reach New York. Mr.
Melody left this morning; he speaks highly of the kindness he received
while in England, and, I believe, would very well like to pay a second
visit. * * * *
And now, dear friend, I think I have given you all the intelligence
that it is in my power to send at the present time. It is likely
that my dear husband may send a note, but he is much occupied, and,
I believe, going to St. Joseph with Mr. Lowrie. He joins with me in
kindest love to you and Mr. ----, not forgetting all our dear friends,
to whom you will be so kind as to present it, and ever believe me to
remain
Your most affectionate friend,
J. M. BLOOHM.
APPENDIX. (B.)
HORSE-TAMING:
_Being an Account of the successful application, in two recent
Experiments made in England, of the expeditious method of
Taming Horses, as practised by the Red Indians of North
America.--Communicated by_ ALEXANDER JOHN ELLIS, B.A., _of
Trinity College, Cambridge, in 1842._
EXTRACT.
The object of the following pages is two-fold: first, to extract the
account of the North American Indian method of Horse-taming, as given
by Mr. Catlin in his new work, entitled 'Letters and Notes on the
Manners, Customs, and Condition of the North American Indians,' and to
detail certain experiments which have been tried by the direction and
in the presence of the Communicator; and, second, to urge gentlemen,
farmers, stable-keepers, horse-trainers, horse-breakers, and all others
who may be interested in the taming of horses, to try for themselves
experiments similar to those here detailed, experiments which are
exceedingly easy of trial, and will be found exceedingly important in
result.
The following is a detail of the experiments witnessed and directed by
the Communicator:--
During a visit in the North Riding of Yorkshire, the volumes of Mr.
Catlin first fell under the Communicator's observation, and among other
passages those just quoted struck him forcibly. Although he scarcely
hesitated to comprehend the circumstances there detailed, under a
well-known though much-disputed class of phenomena, he was nevertheless
anxious to verify them by actual experiment before he attempted to
theorize upon them. And he now prefers to give the naked facts to the
public, and leave his readers to account for them after their own
fashion. It so happened that, while staying with his brother-in-law,
F. M., of M---- Park, the Communicator had the pleasure of meeting W.
F. W., of B----, a great amateur in all matters relating to horses. In
the course of conversation the Communicator mentioned what he had read
about horse-taming, and the detail seemed to amuse them, although they
evidently discredited the fact. The Communicator begged them to put
the matter to the test of experiment, and M., who had in his stables a
filly, not yet a year old, who had never been taken out since she had
been removed from her dam, in the preceding November, agreed that he
would try the experiment upon this filly. The Communicator made a note
of the experiments on the very days on which they were tried, and he
here gives the substance of what he then wrote down.
EXPERIMENT THE FIRST.
SUBJECT--_A Filly, not yet a year old, who had never been
taken out of the stable since she had been removed from her dam
in the preceding November._
_Friday, Feb. 11, 1842._--In the morning W. and M. brought the filly
from the stable to the front of M.'s house. The filly was quite wild,
and on being first taken out of the stable she bolted, and dragged
W., who only held her by a short halter, through a heap of manure. W.
changed the halter for a long training halter, which gave him such
power over her that he was easily able to bring the little scared thing
up to the front of the house. Both M. and W. seemed much amused, and
laughingly asked E. (the Communicator) to instruct them in Catlin's
method of taming horses. E. did so as well as he could, quoting
only from memory. The experiment was not tried very satisfactorily,
but rather under disadvantages. The filly was in the open air, many
strangers about her, and both the experimenters were seeking rather
amusement from the failure than knowledge from the success of their
experiment. W. kept hold of the halter, and M., with considerable
difficulty, for the filly was very restive and frightened, managed to
cover her eyes. He had been smoking just before, and the smoke must
have had some effect on his breath. When he covered her eyes, he _blew_
into the nostrils, but afterwards, at E.'s request, he _breathed_;
and, as he immediately told E., directly that he began to breathe, the
filly, who had very much resisted having her eyes covered and had been
very restive, "_stood perfectly still and trembled_." From that time
she became very tractable. W. also breathed into her nostrils, and
she evidently enjoyed it, and kept putting up her nose to receive the
breath. She was exceedingly tractable and well behaved, and very loth
to start, however much provoked. The waving of a red handkerchief, and
the presenting of a hat to her eyes, while the presenter made a noise
inside it, hardly seemed to startle her at all.
_Saturday, Feb. 12, 1842._--This morning the filly was again led
out to show its behaviour, which was so good as to call forth both
astonishment and praise. It was exceedingly tractable, and followed W.
about with a loose halter. Attempts were made to frighten it. M. put on
a long scarlet Italian cap, and E. flapped a large Spanish cloak during
a violent wind before its eyes, and any well broken-in horse would have
started much more than did this yearling.
EXPERIMENT THE SECOND.
SUBJECT--_A Filly, three years old, coming four, and very
obstinate; quite unbroken-in._
_Saturday, Feb. 12, 1842._--While the last experiments were being tried
on the yearling, W. espied B., a farmer and tenant of M., with several
men, at the distance of some fields, trying, most ineffectually, on the
old system, to break-in a horse. W. proposed to go down and show him
what effect had been produced on the yearling. The rest agreed, and
W., M., and E. proceeded towards B., W. leading the yearling. On their
way they had to lead her over a brook, which she passed after a little
persuasion, _without force_. One of the fields through which she had to
pass contained four horses, three of which trotted up and surrounded
her, but she did not become in the least degree restive, or desirous of
getting loose. When the party arrived at the spot, they found that B.
and his men had tied their filly short up to a tree in the corner of a
field, one side of which was walled, and the other hedged in. W. now
delivered the yearling up to M., and proposed to B. to tame his horse
after the new method, or (to use his own phrase) to "puff" it. B., who
was aware of the character of his horse, anxiously warned W. not to
approach it, cautioning him especially against the fore-feet, asserting
that the horse would rear and strike him with the fore-feet, as it had
"lamed" his own (B.'s) thigh just before they had come up. W. therefore
proceeded very cautiously. He climbed the wall, and came at the horse
through the tree, to the trunk of which he clung for some time, that he
might secure a retreat in case of need. Immediately upon his touching
the halter, the horse pranced about, and finally pulled away with a
dogged and stubborn expression, which seemed to bid W. defiance. Taking
advantage of this, W. leaned over as far as he could, clinging all the
time to the tree with his right hand, and succeeded in breathing into
one nostril, without, however, being able to blind the eyes. From that
moment all became easy. W., who is very skilful in the management of a
horse, coaxed it, and rubbed its face, and breathed from time to time
into the nostrils, while the horse offered no resistance. In about ten
minutes W. declared his conviction that the horse was subdued; and he
then unfastened it, and, to the great and evident astonishment of B.
(who had been trying all the morning in vain to gain a mastery over
it), led it quietly away with a loose halter. Stopping in the middle
of the field, with no one else near, W. quietly walked up to the
horse, placed his arm over one eye and his hand over the other, and
breathed into the nostrils. It was pleasing to observe how agreeable
this operation appeared to the horse, who put up its nose continually
to receive the "puff." In this manner W. led the horse through all
the fields, in one of which were the four horses already mentioned,
who had formerly been the companions of the one just tamed, and who
surrounded it, without, however, making it in the least degree restive.
At length W. and the horse reached the stable-yard, where they were
joined by C. W. C. C., of S---- Hall, and J. B. son of B. the farmer.
In the presence of these, M., and E., W. first examined the fore-feet,
and then the hind-feet of the horse, who offered no resistance, but,
while W. was examining the hind-feet, leant its neck round, and kept
nosing W.'s back. He next buckled on a surcingle, and then a saddle,
and finally bitted the horse with a rope. During the whole of these
operations the horse did not offer the slightest resistance, nor did
it flinch in the least degree. All who witnessed the transaction were
astonished at the result obtained. The Communicator regrets only that
he is not at liberty to publish the names at length. This experiment
of bitting was the last that W. tried, since the nature of the country
about M---- Park did not admit of ridings being tried with any prospect
of safety. The whole experiment lasted about an hour. It should be
mentioned that when J. B., to whom W. delivered up the horse, attempted
to lead it away, it resisted; whereupon E. recommended J. B. to breathe
into its nostrils. He did so, and the horse followed him easily. The
next day, B., who is severe and obstinate, began at this horse in the
old method, and belaboured it dreadfully, whereupon the horse very
sensibly broke away. This result is important, since it shows that the
spirit is subdued, not broken.
These are all the experiments which the Communicator has as yet had
the opportunity of either witnessing or hearing the results of, but
they are to him perfectly satisfactory; the more so, that Mr. W.,
who made the experiments, was himself perfectly ignorant of any
process of the kind until informed of it at the actual time of making
the experiment. It may be considered over-hasty to publish these
experiments in their present crude state, but the Communicator does so
with a view to investigation. He will have no opportunity himself of
making any experiments, as he is unacquainted with the treatment of
horses, and neither owns any nor is likely to be thrown in the way of
any unbroken colts. But the experiment is easy for any horse-owner,
and would be best made in the stable, where the horse might easily
be haltered down so as to offer no resistance. The method would, no
doubt, be found efficacious for the subjugation and taming of vicious
horses. The readers will, of course, have heard of the celebrated
Irish horse-charmers. They never would communicate the secret, nor
allow any one to be with them while they were in the stable taming
the horse. It is agreed, however, that they approached the head. The
Communicator feels sure that the method they employed was analogous
to that contained in these pages. Persons have paid high prices for
having their horses charmed; they have now an opportunity of charming
horses themselves, at a very small expense of time and labour. Half an
hour will suffice to subdue the most fiery steed--the wild horse of the
prairies of North America.
The Communicator has no object but that of benefiting the public in the
above communication. The method is not his own, nor has he the merit of
having first published it; but he thinks that he is the first who has
caused the experiment to be made in England, and the entire success of
that experiment induces him to make the present communication, in the
hope that he may benefit not only his countrymen by the publication
of a simple, easy, and rapid method of performing what was formerly
a long, tedious, and difficult process, but also the "puir beasties"
themselves, by saving them from the pains and tortures of what is
very aptly termed "_breaking_-in." Mr. Catlin, indeed, speaks of the
horse's struggles being severe, but they were the struggles of a wild
horse, just caught on a prairie, and not of the domestic animal quietly
haltered in a stable. The process as now presented is one of great
humanity to the horse, as well as ease and economy to the horse-owner.
The only objections to it are its novelty and simplicity. Those who
have strength of mind to act for themselves, and not to despise any
means, however simple or apparently childish, will have cause to
rejoice over the great results at which they will arrive. But the great
watchword which the Communicator would impress upon his readers is,
"Experiment!"
Magna est veritas et prævalebit.
A. J. E.
Note.--_The above experiments, which the Author has supposed might be
interesting to some of his readers, have been even more successful
than he would have anticipated, having always believed that to bring
about the surprising compromise he has so often witnessed by exchanging
breath, the animal should be a wild one, and in the last extremity of
fear and exhaustion._--THE AUTHOR.
THE END.
London: Printed by WILLIAM CLOWES and SONS, Stamford Street.
Transcriber's Notes
Some compound words appeared both with and without a hyphen. They are
given as printed. Where a word is hyphenated on a line break, the
hyphen is retained if the preponderance of other appearances indicate
it was intended. The word 'chickabboboo-ags' (gin palaces) appears
both with and without the hyphen as a single word.
The following table describes how a variety of textual issues, and
resolution. Where variants were most likely printer's errors, they
have been corrected, otherwise merely noted.
p. viii The "big gun[,]" Removed.
p. x The Author breakf[e]asts Removed.
p. 29 visiters _sic._
p. 37 "oh, the distress!["] Added.
p. 117 relig[i]on Added.
p. 155 Newcastle-on[-]Tyne Added.
p. 182 to support the Queen and royal family.["] Added.
p. 184 when he[,] should stop Removed.
p. 197 they had seen in [t]heir numerous visits Added.
p. 241 Wa-ton-y[a/e] Corrected.
p. 247 were daily engaged[,/.] Corrected.
mea[n]ing Added.
p. 253 and their questions.["] Added.
p. 304 adherance _sic._
p. 305 w[i]th the whole glare Restored.