"Antic.i.p.ating a fine time on this n.o.ble "plantation," we started at four o"clock in the morning so as to arrive at one o"clock, thus avoiding the heat of the afternoon. Towards noon we came to a small river where some men, whom we afterwards discovered to be down-east Yankees, from Maine, were repairing a bridge. Every flooring plank had been taken up, and it was impossible for our teams to cross. "Could the bridge be fixed so that we could go over?" I inquired. "No; it would take half a day, and meantime, if we must cross, there was a place about sixteen miles down the river where we could get over. "But we can"t go so far as that; we are under engagement to perform on Lady Hayes"s place to-night, and we must cross here. Fix the bridge and we will pay you handsomely."
"They wanted no money, but if we would give them some tickets to our show they thought they might do something for us. I gladly consented, and in fifteen minutes we crossed that bridge. The cunning rascals had seen our posters and knew we were coming; so they had taken up the planks of the bridge and had hidden them till they had levied upon us for tickets, when the floor was re-laid in a quarter of an hour.
"Towards dinner-time we began to look out for the grand mansion of "Lady Hayes," and seeing nothing but little huts we quietly pursued our journey. At one o"clock--the time when we should have arrived at our destination--I became impatient, and riding up to a poverty-stricken hovel and seeing a ragged, bare-footed old woman, with her sleeves rolled up to her shoulders, who was washing clothes in front of the door, I inquired--" "h.e.l.lo! can you tell me where Lady Hayes lives?"
"The old woman raised her head, which was covered with tangled locks and matted hair, and exclaimed--" "Hey?"
" "No, Hayes, Lady Hayes; where is her plantation?"
" "This is the place," she answered; "I"m Widder Hayes, and you are all to stay here to-night."
"We could not believe our ears or eyes; but after putting the dirty old woman through a severe cross-examination she finally produced a contract, signed by our advertiser, agreeing for board and lodging for the company, and we found ourselves booked for the night. It appeared that our advertiser could find no better quarters in that forlorn section, and he had indulged in a joke at our expense by exciting our appet.i.tes and imaginations in antic.i.p.ation of the luxuries we should find in the magnificent mansion of "Lady Hayes."
"Joe Pentland grumbled, Bob White indulged in some very strong language, and Signor Vivalla laughed. He had travelled with his monkey and organ in Italy and could put up with any fare that offered. I took the disappointment philosophically, simply remarking that we must make the best of it and compensate ourselves when we reached a town next day.
"The next forenoon we arrived at Macon, and congratulated ourselves that we had reached the regions of civilization.
"In going from Columbus, Ga., to Montgomery, Ala., we were obliged to cross a thinly-settled, desolate tract, known as the "Indian Nation," and as several persons had been murdered by hostile Indians in that region, it was deemed dangerous to travel the road without an escort. Only the day before we started, the mail stage had been stopped and the pa.s.sengers murdered, the driver alone escaping. We were well armed, however, and trusted that our numbers would present too formidable a force to be attacked, though we dreaded to incur the risk. Vivalla alone was fearless and was ready to encounter fifty Indians and drive them into the swamp.
"Accordingly, when we had safely pa.s.sed over the entire route to within fourteen miles of Montgomery, and were beyond the reach of danger, Joe Pentland determined to test Vivalla"s bravery. He had secretly purchased at Mt. Megs, on the way, an old Indian dress with a fringed hunting shirt and moccasins and these he put on, after coloring his face with Spanish brown. Then shouldering his musket he followed Vivalla and the party, and, approaching stealthily leaped into their midst with a tremendous whoop.
"Vivalla"s companions were in the secret, and they instantly fled in all directions. Vivalla himself ran like a deer and Pentland after him, gun in hand and yelling horribly. After running a full mile the poor little Italian, out of breath and frightened nearly to death, dropped on his knees and begged for his life. The "Indian" leveled his gun at his victim, but soon seemed to relent, and signified that Vivalla should turn his pockets inside out--which he did, producing and handing over a purse containing eleven dollars. The savage then marched Vivalla to an oak, and with a handkerchief tied him in the most approved Indian manner to the tree, leaving him half dead with fright.
"Pentland then joined us, and washing his face and changing his dress, we all went to the relief of Vivalla. He was overjoyed to see us, and when he was released his courage returned; he swore that after his companions left him, the Indian had been re-inforced by six more, to whom, in default of a gun or other means to defend himself, Vivalla had been compelled to surrender.
We pretended to believe his story for a week, and then told him the joke, which he refused to credit, and also declined to take the money which Pentland offered to return, as it could not possibly be his since seven Indians had taken his money. We had a great deal of fun over Vivalla"s courage, but the matter made him so cross and surly that we were finally obliged to drop it altogether. From that time forward, however, Vivalla never boasted of his prowess."
At the end of February, 1837, they reached Montgomery, and there Barnum sold a half interest in his show to Henry Hawley, a sleight-of-hand performer. He was a very clever fellow and was never known to be non-plussed or embarra.s.sed in his tricks, except upon one occasion. This was when he was performing the well-known egg and bag trick, which he did with great success, taking egg after egg from the bag and finally breaking one to show that they were genuine. "Now," said he "I will show you the old hen that laid them." But it happened that the negro boy to whom had been intrusted the duty of supplying "properties," had made a slight mistake. The result was that Hawley triumphantly produced not "the old hen that laid the eggs," but a most palpable and evident rooster. The audience roared with laughter, and Hawley, completely taken aback, fled in confusion to his dressing room, uttering furious maledictions upon the boy who was the author of his woe.
The show visited various places in Alabama, Tennessee and Kentucky, and finally disbanded at Nashville in May, 1837.
Vivalla went to New York and gave some performances on his own account before sailing for Cuba. Hawley remained in Tennessee, and Barnum went home to his family. Early in July, however, he formed a new company and went back to rejoin Hawley. But they were not successful, and in August they parted again, Barnum forming a new partnership with one Z. Graves. He then went to Tiffin, Ohio, where he re-engaged Joe Pentland and got together the nucleus of a new company.
During his short stay at Tiffin, Barnum got into a discussion with various gentlemen on religious subjects, and in response to their invitation lectured, or preached, in the school-house on Sunday afternoon and evening. He also went to the neighboring town of Republic and delivered two lectures.
On his way back to Kentucky, just before he reached Cincinnati, he met a drove of hogs. One of the drivers made an insolent remark because the circus wagons interfered with the driving of the hogs, and Barnum responded angrily. Thereupon the fellow jumped from his horse, pointed a pistol at Barnum"s breast and swore he would shoot him if he did not apologize. Barnum asked permission to speak first to a friend in the next wagon, after which, he said, he would give the man full satisfaction. The "friend" proved to be a loaded double barrelled gun, which Barnum leveled at the hog-driver"s head, saying:
"Now, sir, you must apologize, or have your brains blown out. You drew a weapon upon me for a careless remark. You seem to hold human life at a cheap price. Now you have the choice between a load of shot and an apology."
The man apologized promptly, a pleasant conversation ensued, and they parted excellent friends.
On this tour they exhibited at Nashville, where Barnum visited General Jackson at the Hermitage; at Huntsville, Tuscaloosa, Vicksburg and various other places, generally doing well. At Vicksburg they bought a steamboat and went down the river, stopping at every important landing to exhibit. At Natchez their cook deserted them, and Barnum set out to find another. He found a white woman who was willing to go, only she expected to marry a painter in that town, and did not want to leave him. Barnum went to see the painter and found that he had not fully made up his mind whether to marry the woman or not. Thereupon the enterprising showman told the painter that if he would marry the woman the next morning he would hire him for $25 a month as painter, and his bride at the same wages as cook, give them both their board and add a cash bonus of $50. There was a wedding on the boat the next day, and they had a good cook and a good dinner.
During one evening performance at Francisville, Louisiana, a man tried to pa.s.s Barnum at the door of the tent, claiming that he had paid for admittance. Barnum refused him entrance; and as he was slightly intoxicated, he struck Barnum with a slung shot, mashing his hat and grazing what phrenologists call "the organ of caution." He went away and soon returned with a gang of armed and half-drunken companions, who ordered the showmen to pack up their "traps and plunder" and to get on board their steamboat within an hour. The big tent speedily came down. No one was permitted to help, but the company worked with a will, and within five minutes of the expiration of the hour they were on board and ready to leave. The scamps who had caused their departure escorted them and their last load, waving pine torches, and saluted them with a hurrah as they swung into the stream.
The New Orleans papers of March 19th, 1838, announced the arrival of the "Steamer Ceres, Captain Barnum, with a theatrical company." After a week"s performance, they started for the Attakapas country. At Opelousas they exchanged the steamer for sugar and mola.s.ses; the company was disbanded, and Barnum started for home, arriving in New York. June 4th, 1838.
CHAPTER VII. HARD TIMES.
ADVERTISING FOR A PARTNER--"QUAKER OATS"--DIAMOND THE DANCER--A DISHONEST MANAGER--RETURN TO NEW YORK--FROM HAND TO MOUTH--THE AMERICAN MUSEUM.
Looking around now for some permanent business, Barnum at last resorted to the expedient of advertising for a partner, stating that he had $2,500 to invest, and was willing to add his entire personal attention to the business. He was immediately overwhelmed with answers, the most of them coming from sharpers.
One was a counterfeiter who wanted $2,500 to invest in paper, ink, and dies.
One applicant was a sedate individual dressed in sober drab; he proposed to buy a horse and wagon and sell oats in bags, trusting that no one would be particular in measuring after a Quaker.
"Do you mean to cheat in measuring your oats?" asked Barnum.
"Well," said the Quaker, with a significant leer, "I shall probably make them hold out."
Finally Barnum decided to go into business with a good-looking, plausible German, named Proler, who was a manufacturer of paste-blacking, cologne, and bear"s grease. They opened a store at No. 101 1/2 Bowery, where Proler manufactured the goods, and Barnum kept accounts and attended to sales in the store. The business prospered, or appeared to, until the capital was exhausted, and early in 1840 Barnum sold out his interest to Proler, taking the German"s note for $2,600, which was all he ever got, Proler shortly afterward running away to Rotterdam.
Barnum had formed the acquaintance of a very clever young dancer named John Diamond, and soon after leaving the paste-blacking enterprise, he gathered together a company of singers, etc., which, with the dancer, Diamond, he placed in the hands of an agent, not caring to have his name appear in the transaction. He hired the Vauxhall Garden Saloon in New York and gave a variety of performances. This, however, proved unprofitable, and was abandoned after a few months.
Much as Barnum dreaded resuming the life of an itinerant showman, there seemed nothing else to be done, so January 2d, 1841, found him in New Orleans, with a company consisting of C. D. Jenkins, an excellent Yankee character artist; Diamond, the dancer; a violinist, and one or two others. His brother-in-law, John Hallett, acted as advance agent. The venture was fairly successful, though after the first two weeks in New Orleans, the manager and proprietor of the show was obliged to pledge his watch as security for the board-bill. A dancing match between Diamond and a negro from Kentucky put nearly $500 into Barnum"s pocket, and they continued to prosper until Diamond, after extorting as much money as possible from his manager, finally ran away. The other members of the troop caused considerable trouble later. Jenkins, the Yankee character man, went to St. Louis, and having enticed Francis Lynch, an orphan protege of Barnum"s into the scheme, proceeded to the Museum, where he exhibited Lynch as the celebrated dancer, John Diamond. Barnum poured out his wrath at this swindler in a letter, for which Jenkins threatened suit, and actually did instigate R. W. Lindsay to bring an action against Barnum for a pipe of brandy, alleged to have been included in his contract. Being among strangers, Barnum had some difficulty in procuring the $500 bond required, and was committed to jail until late in the afternoon. As soon as he was released, he had Jenkins arrested for fraud, and then went on his way rejoicing.
After an absence of eight months Barnum found himself back in New York, resolved never again to be a traveling showman. Contracting with the publisher, Robert Sears, for five hundred copies of "Sear"s Pictorial Ill.u.s.trations of the Bible," and accepting the United States agency for the book, he opened an office at the corner of Beekman and Na.s.sau Streets. He advertised widely, had numerous agents, and sold thousands of books, but for all that, lost money.
While engaged in this business the Vauxhall Saloon was re-opened, under the management of John Hallett, Mrs. Barnum"s brother. At the end of the season they had cleared about $200. This sum was soon exhausted, and for the rest of the winter Barnum managed to eke out a living by writing for the Sunday papers, and getting up unique advertis.e.m.e.nts for the Bowery Amphitheatre.
His ambition received a stimulus at last from a friend in Danbury, who held a mortgage on a piece of property owned by Mr.
Barnum. Mr. Whittlesey wrote that as he was convinced of Mr.
Barnum"s inability to lay up money, he thought he might as well demand the five hundred dollars then as at any time. Barnum"s flagging energies were aroused, and he began in earnest to look for some permanent investment.
In connection with the Bowery Amphitheatre, the information came to him that the collection of curiosities comprising Scudder"s American Museum, at the corner of Broadway and Ann Streets, was for sale. The original proprietor had spent $50,000 on it, and at his death had left a large fortune as the result of the speculation. It was now losing money and the heirs offered it for sale, at the low price of $15,000. Realizing that with tact, energy, and liberality, the business might be made as profitable as ever, Barnum resolved to buy it.
"You buy the American Museum!" exclaimed a friend to whom he confided the scheme. "What will you buy it with?"
"With bra.s.s," answered Barnum, "for silver and gold have I none."
And buy it with bra.s.s he did, as the story of the transaction testifies.
The Museum building belonged to Mr. Francis W. Olmsted, a retired merchant, to whom he wrote, stating his desire to buy the collection, and that although he had no means, if it could be purchased upon reasonable credit, he was confident that his tact and experience, added to a determined devotion to business, would enable him to make the payments when due. Barnum therefore asked him to purchase the collection in his own name; to give a writing securing it to Barnum, provided he made the payments punctually, including the rent of his building; to allow Barnum twelve dollars and a half a week on which to support his family; and if at any time he failed to meet the installment due, he would vacate the premises, and forfeit all that might have been paid to that date. "In fact, Mr. Olmsted." Barnum continued, earnestly, "you may bind me in any way, and as tightly as you please--only give me a chance to dig out, or scratch out, and I will do so or forfeit all the labor and trouble I may have incurred."
In reply to this letter, which Barnum took to his house himself, Mr. Olmsted named an hour when he could call on him. Barnum was there at the exact moment, and Olmsted was pleased with his punctuality. He inquired closely as to Barnum"s habits and antecedents, and the latter frankly narrated his experiences as a caterer for the public, mentioning his amus.e.m.e.nt ventures in Vauxhall Garden, the circus, and in the exhibitions he had managed at the South and West.
"Who are your references?" Olmsted inquired.
"Any man in my line," Barnum replied, "from Edmund Simpson, manager of the Park Theatre, or William Niblo, to Messrs. Welch, June, t.i.tus, Turner, Angevine, or other circus or menagerie proprietors; also Moses Y. Beach, of the New York Sun."
"Can you get any of them to call on me?"
Barnum told him that he could, and the next day Mr. Niblo rode down and had an interview with Mr. Olmsted, while Mr. Beach and several other gentlemen also called. The following morning Barnum waited upon him for his decision.
"I don"t like your references, Mr. Barnum," said Mr. Olmsted, abruptly, as soon as he entered the room.
Barnum was confused, and said, "he regretted to hear it."
"They all speak too well of you," Olmsted added, laughing; "in fact, they all talk as if they were partners of yours, and intended to share the profits."