The Crees are a pretty and pleasing tribe about three thousand strong, living in the country northwest of the Yellowstone and into the British possessions, where they commonly trade. The Crees are small in stature but of wonderful prowess for their number, since they wage unceasing war with the powerful Blackfeet who are their neighbors in the West, and these are rapidly thinning out the ranks of their warriors.

They are a very primitive people, civilisation having as yet left them untouched. Among the most renowned of their warriors is Bro-cas-sie (the broken arm), whose portrait I have painted in his handsome dress, with that of his wife, a handsome, comely woman.(…)

The chief of this tribe is Cho-co-pay (the six), a man of huge size, with dignity of manner and pride and vanity in proportion to his bulk. He sat for his portrait in a most beautiful dress fringed profusely with scalplocks that he had snatched from his enemies in battle, and wore a shin of buckskin lavishly embroidered and painted with curious hieroglyphics, which related the history of his battles and pictured the chart of his life. Each artide of his dress had been made by his wives, and one, although not the most agreeable, I had the honor to paint. (…)

As a tribe the Assinniboines are a noble-looking race of Indians, and, as I have said, bear a striking resemblance to the Sioux. The men are tall and graceful in their movements, and wear their pictured robes of buffalo-skins with fine effect. They are good hunters and tolerably well supplied with horses. Living in a country well supplied with buffalos and all the necessaries of Indian life, they are very comfortable. They are especially fond of games and amusement and are generally at them. These are the games of moccasins, horse-racing, dancing, and playing ball, at which they excel. Their dances are frequent and varied, and very like those of the Sioux. (…)

I have painted the portrait of a very distinguished young man, the son of a Chief. His name is Wi-jun-jon (the pigeon’s-egg head). This brave travelled with us on our journey in the steamer “Yellowstone.” He was returning, after an absence of a year or more, from Washington city, where he had been with Major Sanford in the polished and fashionable circles of the Capital. There he was presented by the President with the uniform of a colonel. I enjoyed the pleasure of seeing this young man step ashore in a beaver hat and feather, gold epaulets, sash, belt, and broadsword, high-heeled boots, a jug of whiskey under one arm and a blue umbrella in his hand.

Thus metamorphosed, he took a position on the bank in the midst of his parents, wife, and little children, as well as his friends, and for a half-hour or more not one showed a gleam of recognition, although they knew perfectly well who he was. On his part he gazed at them as if they were strangers with whom he had nothing in common.

After a time a gradual but cold and exceedingly formal acquaintance began, which ultimately, without the least apparent emotion, resolved itself into their accustomed mutual intercourse as if nothing had ever intervened to check it.

This is an instance of the stoic customs of the North American Indians, and one of the most striking traits of their character. At present Wi-jun-jon is creating a sensation in his tribe. Daily and nightly he is surrounded by a gaping, listless crowd to whom he relates his wonderful and to them incomprehensible adventures. But it is apparent that already they are beginning ro regard him as a liar and an impostor. Far from envying him his fashionable tour, he is in disgrace among the chiefs and spurned by the leading men among the tribe. What disasters his incredible narrations will yet subject him to time will only develop.

These excerpts are taken from the chapter “Painting an Indian Dandy” in Catlin, George: The Young Reader’s Catlin. My Life Among Indians. DSI: May 2001: 37-47, originally published 1909.