Indian Collection arranged for exhibition--Description of
it--The Hon. Charles Augustus Murray--Collection opened to
private view--Kindness of the Hon. Mr. Murray--Distinguished
visitors--Mr. Murray's explanations--Kind reception by the Public
and the Press--Kind friends--Fatigue of explaining and answering
questions--Curious remedy proposed by a friend--Pleasures and
pains of a friendly and fashionable dinner.
My business now, and all my energies, were concentrated at the Egyptian
Hall, where my collection was arranged upon the walls. The main hall
was of immense length, and contained upon its walls 600 portraits and
other paintings which I had made during eight years' travels amongst
forty-eight of the remotest and wildest tribes of Indians in America,
and also many thousands of articles of their manufacture, consisting
of costumes, weapons, &c. &c., forming together a pictorial history
of those tribes, which I had been ambitious to preserve as a record
of them, to be perpetuated long after their extinction. In the middle
of the room I had erected also a wigwam (or lodge) brought from the
country of the Crows, at the base of the Rocky Mountains, made of
some twenty or more buffalo skins, beautifully dressed and curiously
ornamented and embroidered with porcupine quills.
My friend the Honourable C. A. Murray, with several others, had now
announced my collection open to their numerous friends and such others
as they chose to invite during the three first days when it was
submitted to their private view, and by whom it was most of the time
filled; and being kindly presented to most of them, my unsentimental
and unintellectual life in the atmosphere of railroads and grizly bears
was suddenly changed to a cheering flood of soul and intellect which
greeted me in every part of my room, and soon showed me the way to the
recessed world of luxury, refinements, and comforts of London, which
not even the imagination of those who merely stroll through the streets
can by any possibility reach.
During this private view I found entered in my book the names of very
many of the nobility, and others of the most distinguished people
of the kingdom. My friend Mr. Murray was constantly present, and
introduced me to very many of them, who had the kindness to leave
their addresses and invite me to their noble mansions, where I soon
appreciated the elegance, the true hospitality and refinement of
English life. Amongst the most conspicuous of those who visited my
rooms on this occasion were H. R. H. the Duke of Cambridge, the Duke
and Duchess of Sutherland, the Duke and Duchess of Buccleuch, Duke of
Devonshire, Duke of Wellington, the Bishop of London, the Bishop of
Norwich, Sir Robert and Lady Peel, Lord Grosvenor, Lord Lennox, Duke
of Richmond, Duke of Rutland, Duke of Buckingham, Countess-Dowager of
Dunmore, Countess-Dowager of Ashburnham, Earl of Falmouth, Earl of
Dunmore, Lord Monteagle, Lord Ashley, Earl of Burlington, Sir James and
Lady Clark, Sir Augustus d'Este, Sir Francis Head, and many others of
the nobility, with most of the editors of the press, and many private
literary and scientific gentlemen, of whose kindness to me while in
London I shall have occasion to speak in other parts of this work.
The kindness of my friend Mr. Murray on this occasion can never
be forgotten by me. He pointed out to my illustrious visitors the
principal chiefs and warriors of the various tribes, with many of whom
he was personally acquainted; explaining their costumes, weapons,
&c., with all of which his rambles in the Indian countries beyond the
Mississippi and Missouri had made him quite familiar. He led Duchesses,
Countesses, and Ladies in succession upon his arm, into the wigwam
of buffalo-hides, where he descanted, to the great satisfaction and
amusement of his friends, upon the curious modes of Indian life into
which he had been initiated, and which he had long shared with these
simple people, whilst he resided with them under roofs of buffalo-hides
(like the one now over their heads) on the vast plains and prairies of
the wilds of America.
This was evidently an opportunity affording him great satisfaction, of
illustrating to his friends the styles of primitive life which he had
witnessed in America, whilst his explanations and descriptions were
exceedingly entertaining and amusing to them, and at the same time the
strongest corroboration of the fidelity with which I had made them, and
therefore the best recommendation of them and me to the consideration
of the English community.
He was fully employed, as he led alternately the Duchess of Sutherland
(with her lovely daughters by her side), and the Duchess of Buccleuch
on his arm, and a numerous group around him, while he commented upon
the features and disposition of his old friend _Wee-ta-ra-sha-ro_, who
had taken him under his immediate protection and saved his life from
the designs of some young men who had laid their plans to destroy him
when in the country of the Pawnees.
He explained to them and the Bishops of London and Norwich, who were
following in the wake of the ladies and giving ear, the religious
ceremony of the Indians, their modes of warfare, of hunting, and
throwing the lasso in catching the wild horse. He showed them the
Indian cradles in which the squaws carry their pappooses, slung on
their backs. He took in his hands the lasso, and illustrated the mode
of throwing it, with which he was familiar. He took also in his hands
their war-clubs, their tomahawks and scalping knives, and then the
scalps from the heads of enemies slain in battle, and ably explained
them all. With these he made lasting and thrilling impressions; but
with more satisfaction to himself, and to the fair and tender Graces,
whose sylph-like gracefulness formed a halo of loveliness around
him, he pointed to my paintings of the ever verdant and enamelled
prairies--to the very copses and lawns through which, with his
unerring rifle, he had stalked the timid antelope or the stately elk
and shaggy bison, and, after quieting his raving stomach with their
broiled delicacies, he had straightened his wearied limbs upon his
spread buffalo robe, and, with the long, waving grass and bowing lilies
stooping over his head, he had reflected upon London, upon Palaces and
friends, as he had glided into that sweet forgetfulness that belongs
peculiarly to the wearied huntsman, whose rifle has catered for his
stomach, and whose quiet conscience starts him not at the rustling of
the sweetened winds that are gently breezing over him.
_I_ was also constantly engaged with surrounding groups, who
were anxious to know the meaning and moral of this strange and
unintelligible collection, while my man Daniel, with his rod in his
hand, was enlightening another party at the end of the room, by
pointing out the leading personages of the various tribes, explaining
their costumes, weapons, &c., and answering the thousand questions
which were put to him, and which several years of familiarity with the
subject had abundantly qualified him to do.
Thus passed my first interview with the English aristocracy. I was in
the midst and the best of it; and by it, on all sides, was met with
the kindliest feelings and condescension, while I received compliments
from all (in the most undoubted sincerity) for the successful efforts I
had thus made to perpetuate the records of an abused and dying race of
human beings.
The reception that myself and my works met on these days, amongst
the highest critics, the most refined and elevated of the world, was
beyond description pleasurable to me, as I had arrived a stranger in a
foreign land, where I had risked everything upon the value that should
be set upon my labours; and that, where I had been told that national
prejudices would labour to defeat me. My life had been a tissue of
risks and chances, and I resolved to hazard again; and I am now pleased
(and bound) to acknowledge that I was frankly met with the most
unprejudiced and congenial feelings; and, even more than that, with a
settled and genuine sympathy for the benighted people whom my works
were representing, and a disposition to reward my labours by kind and
unexpected invitations to the hospitable boards of those who fill the
highest and most enviable stations in life.
To this general feeling it affords me pleasure to respond in general
terms, in this place; and I shall have occasion, in other parts of this
work, to return my personal thanks for such spontaneous kindness, which
my lasting gratitude will make it my duty to allude to.
The editors of the leading literary and scientific journals of London,
and of the daily newspapers, were chiefly there, and with their very
friendly and complimentary notices of my collection, with the usual
announcements by advertisements, I opened it for the inspection of the
public on the first day of February, 1840.[2]
[2] The reader, by referring to Appendix A of this volume, will see
the comments of the Press on this Collection, in _England_,
_France_, and the _United States_.
Its commencement was flattering, from the numbers and high
respectability of my visitors, and I was pleased, from day to day, to
meet the faces and friendly greetings of those whom I had seen there at
the private view.
I was pleased also with the freedom which is granted to exhibitions in
London, leaving them entirely independent of tithing or taxation, as
well as of licences to be obtained from the police, as is the case in
France and some other countries. Under such auspices I very pleasantly
commenced, with a rent of 550_l._ per annum, and continued it with
reasonable success for the space of four years. The vicissitudes and
incidents of that time it is not the object of this work to detail;
but I shall connect the links of my narrative better, and, I trust, do
no injustice to my readers, by reciting a few of the incidents that
transpired in that time: and, while I am doing so, endeavouring to do
the justice which gratitude prompts, to those persons whose kindness
has laid me under peculiar obligations.
Amongst those kind friends I must be allowed at present to mention
the names of the Hon. C. A. Murray, Sir Augustus d'Este, Charles D.
Archibald, Esq., Sir James Clark, Sir Thomas Phillips, Mr. Petty
Vaughan, Dr. Hodgkin, Capt. Shippard, Sir Francis Head, Lord Monteagle,
John Murray, A. M. Perkins, and Sir David Wilkie; and there were many
others with these who were very frequently at my rooms; and for their
friendly and constant efforts to promote my interest they have my
sincerest thanks.
Several of these gentlemen, and others, whose visits were so frequent
to my rooms, having formed an acquaintance with the Indians in their
own country, or, from feelings of sympathy for them, taken so deep an
interest in the subject, relieved me much of my time from the fatiguing
task which I had adopted of explaining around the rooms such subjects
as I considered most curious and instructive, and of answering the
thousands of questions which were naturally put in every part of the
room for information on so novel and exciting a theme.
I had entered upon this, at first, not as a task but an amusement,
from which I drew great pleasure whilst I was entertaining my visitors
and cultivating their pleasing acquaintance. From an over desire and
effort on my part to explain the peculiar and curious modes of those
wild people, and from a determination on the part of my visitors to get
these explanations from my own lips (although I had my man Daniel and
several others constantly in the rooms for the same purpose), I was
held in my exhibition rooms almost daily from morning until night.
My men were able to explain the meaning of everything in the
collection, but this did not satisfy the public whilst I was present.
All inquired for me: "Where's Mr. Catlin? he's the Lion; his collection
is wonderful; but I would give more to see him than all the rest." "He
is yonder, Madam, at the farther end of the room, where you see a
crowd of people around him."
I was generally in the midst of a crowd, who were densely packed around
me; moving about the rooms whilst, with a rod in my hand to point
with, I was lecturing or answering the numerous questions which were
naturally put relative to these strange people and their modes. To
lecture or to explain all day, following the current of one's thoughts,
would have been a thing feasible, though fatiguing; but to stand upon
one's feet and all day long to answer to interrogations, and many of
those fifty times over, to different parties who were successively
taking me in tow, I soon found was far more fatiguing than my travels
and labours in the Indian wilderness; and I at length (at a much later
period than my friends and my physician advised) gradually withdrew
from the scene and this suicidal course, just before it might have been
too late to have saved anything useful of me.
I followed the advice of my physician by going to my rooms at stated
hours, but soon departed from it by failing to leave them with
punctuality, and take recreation in the open air. The partial change I
had adopted, however, was of advantage to me--talking part of the day
and breaking off and leaving my men to do the talking for the other
half.
Like most adventurers in wilderness life I was fond of describing
what I had seen; and, having the works of several years around me, in
their crude and unfinished condition, spread before the criticising
world, and difficult to be appreciated, I was doubly stimulated to be
in the collection, and with all the breath I could spare, to add to
the information which the visitors to my rooms were seeking for. Under
these conflicting feelings I struggled to keep away from my rooms, and
did so for a part of the day, and that, as I soon found, only to meet a
more numerous and impatient group when I re-entered.
All of the above-mentioned kind friends, and many others, repeatedly
called to impress upon me the necessity of leaving my exhibition to my
men, "to save my lungs--to save my life," as they said. Some snatched
me away from the crowd, and in the purest kindness hurled me through
the streets in their carriages, still _yelling_ answers to their
numerous questions as we were passing over the noisy pavements; and
then at their kind and festive boards, to which I had been brought as
places of refuge and repose, I was, for an instance, presented as--"My
dear, this is Mr. Catlin! (_Plate No. 3, next page._)--Mother, you have
heard of Mr. Catlin?--Cousins Lucy and Fanny, here's the celebrated Mr.
Catlin you have heard me speak of so often. Poor fellow! I have dragged
him away from his exhibition, where they are talking him to death--he
_must_ have _repose_--and here we can entertain and amuse him. Here, my
little chicks--come here all of you--here's Mr. Catlin!--here's the man
who has been so long among the wild Indians! he will tell you a great
many curious stories about them. Where's sister Ellen, and Betty?" "Oh,
they are in the garden with Mr. S. and his son, who has just returned
from New Zealand." "Good, good; run for them, run for them, quick! Send
the carriage for aunt W----n as swift as possible, and don't let her
fail to stop on the way and bring Lady R----e: you know how fond she is
of the Indian character--she was three years, you know, in Canada--and
the poem she is now writing on the Indians! What a treat this will be
to her! Won't it be delightful to see her and Mr. Catlin come together?
She told me the other day she had a thousand questions she wished to
put to Mr. Catlin--how interesting! Have the dinner up at _six_--no,
say at _seven_; it will give us the more time for conversation, and
for Professor D., the phrenologist, to get here, and whom I have
invited--he's always behind the time--and this treat will be so rich to
him--I would not miss him for anything in the world."
My lecturing lungs and stomach being under a running engagement for
dinner at three o'clock, the sound of "_six_"--then, "no, _seven_,"
with the words "Indian poem," "phrenologist," &c., produced a most
rebellious and faltering sensation in my chest; the one entirely
exhausted from its customary exertions until three o'clock, and the
other, at that moment, completely in a state of collapse. The difficult
trials I had lived through with the latter, however, in my wild
adventures in the Indian wilderness, and the more recent proofs in the
Egyptian Hall, of the elasticity of the other, inspired me with courage
to enter upon the ordeal that was before me, and (even in distress)
justly to appreciate what was so kindly preparing for me.
I here instantly forgot my troubles as the party entered from the
gardens, when I was thus presented by my good friend:--"Ellen, my dear,
and Betty, here's Mr. Catlin; and, Mr. S----n, I have the extreme
pleasure of presenting to your acquaintance the famous Mr. Catlin,
whose name and whose works are familiar to you: and now, Catlin, my
dear fellow, I introduce you to Mr. J. S., the son of the gentleman
with whom I have just made you acquainted. Mr. J. S. has just returned
from amongst the natives of New Zealand, where he has spent three or
four years; and your descriptions of all the modes and customs of
the North American Indians, compared with his accounts of the New
Zealanders, will be so rich a treat to us!----But, Catlin, you look
pale! Are you not well? You look so fagged!" "Yes, yes; I am well."
"Oh, that plagued exhibition of yours--it will be the death of you! You
must keep away from it, or you will talk yourself to death there! My
good friends, come, take seats! Catlin, my dear fellow, come, join us
in a glass of good old sherry--it will give you an appetite for your
dinner--Is it to your liking?" "I thank you, it is very fine." "Will
you take another?" "No, I am much obliged to you." "My dear, look at
the clock--what time is it?" "Quarter past five." "Ah, well, I didn't
think it was so late--be sure to have the dinner up at seven--do you
hear?"
[Illustration: N^o. 3.]
Oh, Time and Paper! I will not tax you with the pains of kindness I
was at that moment entering upon--I, who had been for eight years
eating at the simple Indians' hospitable boards, where eating and
talking are seldom done together; or taking my solitary meals, cooked
by my own hand; where I had no one to talk with--but will leave it to
Imagination's exhaustless colours, which, for a harmless pastime, will
paint the pleasures, perhaps, of the dragging hours of my lifetime that
I sighed through from that until twelve o'clock at night (the last
half-hour of which I had stood upon my feet, with my hat in my hand,
taking affectionate leave, with, "My dear, charming Sir, you can't tell
how happy we have all been--your accounts have been so interesting!
You _must_ come another evening and dine with us, and we will have
Mr. G. and Mr. and Mrs. L----n; they will be so impatient to hear you
tell all you have told us. Good night!--_good_ night!--we shall all
be in a party at your exhibition to-morrow at an early hour, at ten
o'clock--mind, don't forget the hour--and it will be so delightful to
hear you explain everything in your collection, which my dear husband
has seen so often, and says are so curious and interesting. Poor
fellow! he is quite knocked up--he has been up all day, and constantly
talking, and was so completely worn out that he went off to bed an hour
ago--you will know how to excuse him. We ladies can often entertain our
friends long after _his_ powers of conversation are fagged out. Good
night--good night, my dear Sir--farewell!"
Thus and at that hour I took leave, when the busses and cabs were all
still, and I had, from necessity, a solitary walk of three miles to
my lodgings; and before I laid my head on my pillow, from an equal
necessity, to feed my poor stomach with some substitute for _dinner_,
which had been in abundance before my eyes, but which the constant
exercise of my lungs had prevented me from eating. Such a rendezvous
as had been appointed for ten o'clock the next day, and by so fair and
so kind a lady, even the rough politeness of a savage would have held
sacred.
At twelve o'clock on the following morning, and when I had nearly
finished my descriptions of Indian modes to the ladies, my kind friend
who had taken me to his house the day before, and having a little
overslept himself on that morning had taken a late breakfast at eleven,
entered the rooms with three or four of his friends, and quite rapidly
addressed his wife in the following manner:--"Come now, my dear, you
and your party have kept poor Catlin talking and answering questions
quite long enough; you will kill him if you don't let him rest once in
a while. See how pale the poor man is. Go off and get home as quick as
possible. See all this crowd waiting around to talk him to death when
you are done with him. I have brought Mr. C., the famous mineralogist,
and the two Mr. N.'s, the geologists, to whom I want him to explain
the mineralogy and geology of those boundless regions, of the Missouri
and Rocky Mountains, and I was to have had the famous botanist, Mr.
D. S--, but he may come by and by; and after we have done here, I am
going to take him, that he may have a little relaxation and repose, to
the British Museum, which he has not seen yet, and to the Geological
Society's rooms; and after that, I have got for him an invitation
to dine with the Reverend Mr. O., who will have several reverend
gentlemen, and the famous Miss E. and Mrs. W., who you know are all so
anxious to learn about the Indians' religion and modes of worship." I
was then introduced to my friend's three or four companions, but a few
moments after was reminded, by one of my men, of an engagement which
took me off for the remainder of that day.