"Good for you, old Barnum,"--"Time is money,"--"Nothing like economy," yelled the audience. Holding up his hand for silence, Barnum proceeded:
"Young gentlemen, I have a word or two to say, in order that we may have a thorough understanding between ourselves at the outset. I see symptoms of a pretty jolly time here this evening, and you have paid me liberally for the single hour of my time, which is at your service. I am an old traveller and an old showman, and I like to please my patrons. Now, it is quite immaterial to me; you may furnish the entertainment for the hour, or I will endeavor to do so, or we will take portions of the time by turns --you supplying a part of the amus.e.m.e.nt and I a part--as we say sometimes in America, "you pays your money, and you takes your choice." "
This frankness pleased the students, who agreed to this unique proposition unhesitatingly.
The lecture proceeded for fifteen minutes, when a voice called out: "Come, old chap! you must be tired by this time. Hold up now till we sing Yankee Doodle." Whereupon they all joined in that honorable song with l.u.s.ty good-will, Barnum meanwhile sitting down comfortably, to show them that he was quite satisfied with their manner of pa.s.sing the time. When the song was concluded, the leader of the party said: "Now, Mr. Barnum, you may go ahead again."
The lecture went on, or rather A lecture, for Barnum began to adapt his remarks to the occasion. Every few minutes would come some interruption, which was always as much enjoyed by Barnum as by the audience. When the entertainment concluded, the young men crowded to the platform to shake hands with the speaker, declaring that they had had a "jolly good time," while the leader said: "Stay with us a week, Barnum, and we"ll dine you, wine you, and give you full houses every night."
Barnum would have accepted the invitation had he not been announced to lecture in London the next evening, and he told the students so. They asked him all sorts of questions about America, the Museum and other shows, and expressed the hope that he would come out of his troubles all right.
At least a score of them invited him to breakfast with them the next morning, but he declined, until one young gentleman insisted on personal grounds. "My dear sir," said he, "you must breakfast with me. I have almost split my throat here to-night, and it is only fair for you to repay me by coming to see me in the morning." This appeal was irresistible, and Barnum agreed to come.
The boys were pleased with his nerve and good nature, but they confided to him that they liked better to get people angry. A few weeks before Howard Paul had left them in disgust, because they insisted on smoking when his wife was on the stage. They added that the entertainment was excellent, and Howard Paul might have made a thousand pounds if he had kept his temper.
Some time later Barnum was offered L1,200, or $6,000, for the copyright of his lecture; the offer was, however, refused.
CHAPTER x.x.x. AN ENTERPRISING ENGLISHMAN.
A NEW FRIEND--DINNER TO TOM THUMB AND COMMODORE NUTT--MEASURING THE GIANT--THE TWO ENGINES.
The morning after the lecture in Manchester a gentleman named John Fish called at the hotel where Barnum was staying. He said that he had attended the lecture the evening before, and added that he was pretty well acquainted with the lecturer, having read his autobiography. He went on to say that he was joint proprietor with another gentleman in a cotton-mill near Manchester, "although," he said, "a few years ago I was working as a journeyman, and probably should have been at this time had I not read your book."
Observing Mr. Barnum"s surprise, he continued:
"The fact is, Mr. Barnum, upon reading your autobiography, I thought I perceived you tried to make yourself out worse than you really were; for I discovered a pleasant spirit and a good heart under the rougher exterior in which you chose to present yourself to the public; but," he added, "after reading your life, I found myself in possession of renewed strength, and awakened energies and aspirations, and I said to myself, "Why can"t I go ahead and make money, as Barnum did? He commenced without money and succeeded; why may not I?" In this train of thought," he continued, "I went to a newspaper office and advertised for a partner with money to join me in establishing a cotton-mill. I had no applications, and, remembering your experiences when you had money and wanted a partner, I spent half a crown in a similar experiment. I advertised for a partner to join a man who had plenty of capital. Then I had lots of applicants ready to introduce me into all sorts of occupations, from that of a banker to that of a horsejockey or gambler, if I would only furnish the money to start with. After a while, I advertised again for a partner, and obtained one with money. We have a good mill. I devote myself closely to business, and have been very successful.
I know every line in your book; so, indeed, do several members of my family; and I have conducted my business on the principles laid down in your published "Rules for Money-making." I find them correct principles; and, sir, I have sought this interview in order to thank you for publishing your autobiography, and to tell you that to that act of yours I attribute my present position in life."
"Your statement is certainly flattering," said Mr. Barnum, "and I am glad if I have been able in any manner, through my experiences, to aid you in starting in life. But I presume your genius would have found vent in time if I had not written the book."
"No, indeed, it would not," he replied, in an earnest tone; "I am sure I should have worked as a mill-hand all my life if it had not been for you. Oh, I have made no secret of it," he continued; "the commercial men with whom I deal know all about it; indeed, they call me "Barnum" on "change here in Manchester."
On one occasion, when General Tom Thumb exhibited in Bury, Mr.
Fish closed his mill, and gave each of his employees a ticket to the exhibition; out of respect, as he said, to Barnum. On a subsequent occasion, when the little General visited England the last time, Mr. Fish invited him, his wife, Commodore Nutt, Minnie Warren, and the managers of "the show," to a splendid and sumptuous dinner at his house, which the distinguished little party enjoyed exceedingly.
Soon after his return to America, Barnum read an account of a French giant then exhibiting in Paris, and said to be over eight feet in height. As this was considerably taller than anything that the showman had ever beheld, he wrote to his friend Fish, who had expressed a wish to do him any service in his power, and requested him to go to Paris, and, by actual measurement, find out the exact height of the giant. He inclosed an offer, arranging the prices on a sliding scale, commencing at eight feet, and descending to seven feet two inches, for if he were not taller than that he was not to be desired.
Mr. Fish put a two-foot rule in his pocket, and started for Paris, where, after several days" delay and much trouble beside, he finally succeeded in gaining an interview. The giant was shown Barnum"s letter, and read the tempting offers made for his services, provided he measured eight feet, or within six inches of that height.
"Oh, I measure over eight feet," said he.
"Very likely," responded Mr. Fish, "but you see my orders are to measure you."
"There"s no need of that; you can see for yourself," stretching himself up a few inches by aid of a peculiar knack which giants and dwarfs possess to increase or diminish their apparent stature.
"No doubt you are right," persisted Mr. Fish, "but you see I must obey orders, and if I am not permitted to measure you I shall not engage you."
"Well," said the giant, "if you can"t take my word for it, look at that door. You see my head is more than two feet above the top (giving his neck a severe stretch); just measure the door."
But Mr. Fish refused. The giant was now desperate, and, stretching himself up to his full height, exclaimed: "Well, be quick! Put your rule to my feet and measure me; but hurry up, please!"
Mr. Fish regarded him coolly. "Look here!" said he, "this sort of thing won"t do, you know. I don"t understand this contrivance around the soles of your boots, but it seems to me you"ve got a set of springs there which aids your height when you desire it.
Now I will not stand any more nonsense. If I engage you at all, you must first take off your boots, and lie flat upon your back in the middle of the floor."
The giant protested, but Mr. Fish was firm, and at last he slowly took off his coat and lay down on the floor. Mr. Fish applied his rule, and to his own astonishment and the giant"s indignation the latter proved to be barely seven feet one and one-half inches. So he was not engaged at all.
Some time afterwards Barnum wrote to his friend and asked his permission to put him into a new book then in course of preparation. He wrote in return the following characteristic letter:
Had I made a fortune of L100,000 I should have been proud of a place in your Autobiography; but as I have only been able to make (here he named a sum which in this country would be considered almost a fortune), I feel I should be out of place in your pages; at all events, if you mention me at all, draw it mildly, if you please.
The American war has made sad havoc in our trade, and it is only by close attention to business that I have lately been at all successful. I have built a place for one thousand looms, and have, as you know, put in a pair of engines, which I have named "Barnum" and "Charity." Each engine has its name engraved on two large bra.s.s plates at either end of the cylinder, which has often caused much mirth when I have explained the circ.u.mstances to visitors. I started and christened "Charity" on the 14th of January last, and she has saved me L12 per month in coals ever since. The steam from the boiler goes first to "Charity" (she is high pressure), and "Barnum" only gets the steam after she has done with it. He has to work at low pressure (a condensing engine), and the result is a saving. Barnum was extravagant when he took steam direct, but since I fixed Charity betwixt him and the boiler, he can only get what she gives him. This reminds me that you state in your "Life" you could always make money, but formerly did not save it. Perhaps you never took care of it till Charity became Chancellor of Exchequer. When I visited you at the Bull Hotel, in Blackburn, you pointed to General Tom Thumb, and said: "That is my piece of goods; I have sold it hundreds of thousands of times, and have never yet delivered it!" That was ten years ago, in 1858. If I had been doing the same with my pieces of calico, I must have been wealthy by this time; but I have been hammering at one (cotton) nail several months, and, as it did not offer to clinch, I was almost tempted to doubt one of your "rules," and thought I would drive at some other nail; but, on reflection, I knew I understood cotton better than anything else, and so I back up your rule and stick to cotton, not doubting it will be all right and successful.
Mr. Fish was one of the large cla.s.s of English manufacturers who suffered seriously from the effects of the rebellion in the United States. As an Englishman, he could not have a patriot"s interest in the progress of that terrible struggle; but he made a practical exhibition of sympathy for the suffering soldiers, in a pleasant and characteristic manner.
At the great Sanitary Fair in New York, during the war, Mr. Fish sent two monster "Simuel cakes," covered with miniature forts, cannon, armies, and all the panoply of war, which attracted great attention from every one present.
CHAPTER x.x.xI. AT HOME AGAIN.
THE CLOCK DEBTS PAID--THE MUSEUM ONCE MORE UNDER BARNUM"S MANAGEMENT--ENTHUSIASTIC RECEPTION--HIS SPEECH--TWO POEMS.
In 1859, Barnum returned to the United States. During his trip abroad he had secured many novelties for the Museum, the Albino Family, Thiodon"s Mechanical Theatre, and others.
These afforded him a liberal commission, and he had beside made considerable money from the Tom Thumb exhibitions and his lectures.
All this, his wife"s income, as well as a large sum derived from the sale of some of her property, was faithfully devoted to the one object of their lives--paying off the clock debts.
Mrs. Barnum and her daughter, Pauline, had either boarded in Bridgeport or lived in a small house in the suburbs during the entire four years of struggle. The land purchased by Mrs. Barnum at the a.s.signee"s sale in East Bridgeport had increased in value meanwhile, and they felt justified in borrowing on it, some of the single lots were sold, and all this money went toward the discharge of the debts.
At last, in March, 1860, all the clock indebtedness was extinguished, except $20,000, which Barnum bound himself to take up within a certain time, his friend James D. Johnson guaranteeing his bond to that effect.
On the seventeenth day of March, Messrs. Butler and Greenwood signed an agreement to sell and deliver to Barnum on the following Sat.u.r.day their entire good-will and interest in the Museum collection. This fact was thoroughly circulated, and blazing posters, placards, and advertis.e.m.e.nts announced that "Barnum is on his feet again." It was furthermore stated that the Museum would be closed for one week, opening March 31st, under the management and proprietorship of its original owner. It was also promised that Barnum would address the audience on the night of closing.
The Museum, decked in its holiday dress of flags and banners, was crowded to its utmost capacity when Barnum made his appearance.
His reception was an enthusiastic one, cheers and shouts rent the air, and tears filled the showman"s eyes as he thought of this triumphant conclusion of his four years" struggle.
Recovering himself, he bowed his acknowledgments for the reception, and addressed the audience as follows:
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN: I should be more or less than human, if I could meet this unexpected and overwhelming testimonial at your hands, without the deepest emotion. My own personal connection with the Museum is now resumed, and I avail myself of the circ.u.mstance to say why it is so. Never did I feel stronger in my worldly prosperity than in September, 1855. Three months later I was so deeply embarra.s.sed that I felt certain of nothing, except the uncertainty of everything. A combination of singular efforts and circ.u.mstances tempted me to put faith in a certain clock manufacturing company, and I placed my signature to papers which ultimately broke me down. After nearly five years of hard struggle to keep my head above water, I have touched bottom at last, and here to-night I am happy to announce that I have waded ash.o.r.e. Every clock debt of which I have any knowledge has been provided for. Perhaps, after the troubles and turmoils I have experienced, I should feel no desire to re-engage in the excitements of business; but a man like myself, less than fifty years of age, and enjoying robust health, is scarcely old enough to be embalmed and put in a gla.s.s case in the Museum as one of its million of curiosities. "It is better to wear out than rust out." Besides, if a man of active temperament is not busy, he is apt to get into mischief. To avoid evil, therefore, and since business activity is a necessity of my nature, here I am, once more, in the Museum, and among those with whom I have been so long and so pleasantly identified. I am confident of a cordial welcome, and hence feel some claim to your indulgence while I briefly allude to the means of my present deliverance from utter financial ruin. Need I say, in the first place, that I am somewhat indebted to the forbearance of generous creditors. In the next place, permit me to speak of sympathizing friends, whose volunteered loans and exertions vastly aided my rescue. When my day of sorrow came, I first paid or secured every debt I owed of a personal nature. This done, I felt bound in honor to give up all of my property that remained toward liquidating my "clock debts." I placed it in the hands of trustees and receivers for the benefit of all the "clock" creditors. But at the forced sale of my Connecticut real estate, there was a purchaser behind the screen, of whom the world had little knowledge. In the day of my prosperity I made over to my wife much valuable property, including the lease of this Museum building--a lease then having about twenty-two years to run, and enhanced in value to more than double its original worth. I sold the Museum collection to Messrs. Greenwood & Butler, subject to my wife"s separate interest in the lease, and she has received more than $80,000 over and above the sums paid to the owners of the building.
Instead of selfishly applying this amount to private purposes, my family lived with a due regard to economy, and the savings (strictly belonging to my wife) were devoted to buying in portions of my estate at the a.s.signees" sales and to purchasing "clock notes" bearing my indors.e.m.e.nts. The Christian name of my wife is Charity. I may well acknowledge, therefore, that I am not only a proper "subject of charity," but that "without Charity, I am nothing."
"But, ladies and gentlemen, while Charity thus labored in my behalf, Faith and Hope were not idle. I have been anything but indolent during the last four years. Driven from pillar to post, and annoyed beyond description by all sorts of legal claims and writs, I was perusing protests and summonses by day, and dreaming of clocks run down by night. My head was ever whizzing with dislocated cog-wheels and broken main-springs; my whole mind (and my credit) was running upon tick, and everything pressing on me like a dead weight.
"In this state of affairs I felt that I was of no use on this side of the Atlantic, so, giving the pendulum a swing, and seizing time by the forelock, I went to Europe. There I furtively pulled the wires of several exhibitions, among which that of Tom Thumb may be mentioned for example. I managed a variety of musical and commercial speculations in Great Britain, Germany, and Holland. These enterprises, together with the net profits of my public lectures, enabled me to remit large sums to confidential agents for the purchase of my obligations. In this manner, I quietly extinguished, little by little, every dollar of my clock liabilities. I could not have achieved this difficult feat, however, without the able a.s.sistance of enthusiastic friends--and among the chief of them let me gratefully acknowledge the invaluable services of Mr. James D. Johnson, a gentleman of wealth, in Bridgeport, Connecticut. Other gentlemen have been generous with me. Some have loaned me large sums without security, and have placed me under obligations which must ever command my honest grat.i.tude "but Mr. Johnson has been a "friend in deed," for he has been truly a "friend in need."