The years 1851, 1852 and 1853 were mostly spent at Bridgeport, with frequent visits to New York of a day or two each. In the last-named year he resigned the office of President of the Fairfield County Agricultural Society, but in accepting his resignation the society insisted that it should not go into effect until after the annual fair of 1854 His administration of the affairs of the society had been very successful, especially in relation to the fairs and cattle shows.

The manner in which Barnum turned every circumstance to account in the interest of these fairs is well shown in his dealings with a pickpocket at the fair of 1853. The man was caught in the act of taking a pocket-book from a country farmer, and on arrest was found to be a notorious English thief. He had already victimized many other visitors to the fair, and there was almost a state of panic among the visitors. The fair was to close the next day.

Early the next morning the thief was taken before a justice, legally examined, and was bound over for trial. Barnum then obtained consent from the Sheriff that the fellow should be put on the fair grounds, for the purpose of giving those who had been robbed an opportunity of identifying him. For this purpose he was handcuffed and placed in a conspicuous position, where of course he was "the observed of all observers." Then Barnum papered the country round about with handbills, stating that, for the last day of the fair, the managers had secured an extraordinary attraction. They would, he said, exhibit, safely handcuffed, and without extra charge, a live pickpocket, who had on the day preceding been caught in the act of robbing an honest farmer. Crowds of people rushed in to see the show, parents for miles around brought their children to see the awful example of iniquity, and great was the profit to the treasury of the fair.

At the close of his presidency in 1854 Barnum was asked to deliver the opening speech at the County Fair at Stamford. He did so, delivering simply a portion of his lecture on "The Philosophy of Humbug." The next morning, as he was being shaved in the village barber's shop, which was at the time crowded with customers, the ticket-seller to the fair came in. Here is Barnum's own account of what followed:

"What kind of a house did you have last night?" asked one of the gentlemen in waiting.

"Oh, first-rate, of course. Barnum always draws a crowd," was the reply of the ticket-seller, to whom I was not known.

Most of the gentlemen present, however, knew me, and they found much difficulty in restraining their laughter.

"Did Barnum make a good speech?" I asked.

"I did not hear it. I was out in the ticket-office. I guess it was pretty good, for I never heard so much laughing as there was all through his speech. But it makes no difference whether it was good or not," continued the ticket-seller, "the people will go to see Barnum."

"Barnum must be a curious chap," I remarked.

"Well, I guess he is up to all the dodges."

"Do you know him?" I asked.

"Not personally," he replied; "but I always get into the Museum for nothing. I know the doorkeeper, and he slips me in free."

"Barnum would not like that, probably, if he knew it," I remarked.

"But it happens he don't know it," replied the ticket-seller, in great glee.

"Barnum was on the cars the other day, on his way to Bridgeport," said I, "and I heard one of the passengers blowing him up terribly as a humbug. He was addressing Barnum at the time, but did not know him. Barnum joined in lustily, and indorsed everything the man said. When the passenger learned whom he had been addressing, I should think he must have felt rather flat."

"I should think so, too," said the ticket-seller.

This was too much, and we all indulged in a burst of laughter; still the ticket-seller suspected nothing. After I had left the shop, the barber told him who I was. I called into the ticket-office on business several times during the day, but the poor ticket-seller kept his face turned from me, and appeared so chapfallen that I did not pretend to recognize him as the hero of the joke in the barber's shop.

There were many incidents similar to the foregoing in Barnum's career. One occurred on board a steamboat, going from New York to Bridgeport. As they entered the harbor of the latter city a stranger asked the great showman to point out "Barnum's house" from the deck. Barnum did so, and then another bystander remarked, "I know all about that house, for I did a lot of painting there for several months while Barnum was in Europe." He went on to say that it was the meanest and worst contrived house he ever saw, and added, "It will cost old Barnum a mint of money and not be worth two cents after it is finished." "I suppose from that that old Barnum didn't pay you very punctually," observed Barnum himself. "Oh, yes; he pays promptly every Saturday night," said the other; "there's no trouble about that. He has made half a million by exhibiting a little boy whom he took from Bridgeport and whom we never thought any great shakes until Barnum took him and trained him."

Presently one of the other passengers told this man who Barnum was, and nothing more was seen of him.

On another occasion, says Barnum, I went to Boston by the Fall River route. Arriving before sunrise, I found but one carriage at the depot. I immediately engaged it, and, giving the driver the check for my baggage, told him to take me directly to the Revere House, as I was in great haste, and enjoined him to take in no other passengers, and I would pay his demands. He promised compliance with my wishes, but soon afterwards appeared with a gentleman, two ladies, and several children, whom he crowded into the carriage with me, and, placing their trunks on the baggage-rack, started off. I thought there was no use in grumbling, and consoled myself with the reflection that the Revere House was not far away. He drove up one street and down another for what seemed to me a very long time, but I was wedged in so closely that I could not see what route he was taking.

After half an hour's drive he halted, and I found we were at the Lowell Railway Depot. Here my fellow-passengers alighted, and after a long delay the driver delivered their baggage, received his fare, and was about closing the carriage door preparatory to starting again. I was so thoroughly vexed at the shameful manner in which he had treated me, that I remarked:

"Perhaps you had better wait till the Lowell train arrives; you may possibly get another load of passengers. Of course my convenience is of no consequence. I suppose if you land me at the Revere House any time this week, it will be as much as I have a right to expect."

"I beg your pardon," he replied, "but that was Barnum and his family. He was very anxious to get here in time for the first train, so I stuck him for $2, and now I'll carry you to the Revere House free."

"What Barnum is it?" I asked.

"The Museum and Jenny Lind man," he replied.

The compliment and the shave both having been intended for me, I was of course mollified, and replied, "You are mistaken, my friend, I am Barnum."

"Coachee" was thunderstruck, and offered all sorts of apologies.

"A friend at the other depot told me that I had Mr. Barnum on board," said he, "and I really supposed he meant the other man. When I come to notice you, I perceive my mistake, but I hope you will forgive me. I have carried you frequently before, and hope you will give me your custom while you are in Boston. I never will make such a mistake again."

The Pequonnock Bank of Bridgeport was organized in the spring of 1851. Barnum had no interest whatever in it, not holding a single share of the stock. He was, however, unanimously elected President of it. He accepted the office, but as he knew he could not devote much time to it, requested that Mr. Hubbell, then Mayor of Bridgeport, should be made Vice-President.

Mr. Barnum also invested $20,000, as special partner, in a company for the publication of an illustrated weekly newspaper in New York. This was The Illustrated News. The first number was issued on the 1st of January, 1853, and within a month it had seventy thousand circulation. Various complications arose, which greatly annoyed Barnum, and at the end of the first year the whole concern was sold out without loss.

He was earnestly urged, in February, 1854, to accept the presidency of the Universal Exposition, which was held in New York in the famous Crystal Palace. At first he positively declined. But the matter was persistently urged upon him by many influential gentlemen, who represented to him that the success of the enterprise depended upon his acceptance of the position. The result was that at last he did accept it, and he entered upon its duties with all the vigor he could command. The concern was almost bankrupt, and to save it from utter ruin Barnum advanced large sums of money from his own purse. By this means and by various other efforts, such as the re-inauguration, the famous Jullien concerts, etc., here stored a semblance of prosperity. But it was uphill work, and after a time he resigned the presidency and abandoned the institution to its fate.

A little incident which occurred at Iranistan, in the winter of 1852, was observed by a lady from Philadelphia who was visiting there at the time. She afterward made it the subject of a poem, which Mr. Barnum prized highly. It was as follows:

WINTER BOUQUETS.

AN INCIDENT IN THE LIFE OF AN AMERICAN CITIZEN.

The poor man's garden lifeless lay Beneath a fall of snow; But Art in costly greenhouses, Keeps Summer in full glow. And Taste paid gold for bright bouquets, The parlor vase that drest, That scented Fashion's gray boudoir, Or bloomed on Beauty's breast.

A rich man sat beside the fire, Within his sculptured halls; Brave heart, clear head, and busy hand Had reared those stately walls. He to his gardener spake, and said In tone of quiet glee— "I want a hundred fine bouquets— Canst make them, John, for me?

John's eyes became exceeding round, This question when he heard; He gazed upon his master, And he answered not a word. "Well, John," the rich man laughing said, "If these too many be, What sayest to half the number, man? Canst fifty make for me?"

Now John prized every flower, as 'twere A daughter or a son; And thought, like Regan—"What the need Of fifty, or of one?" But, keeping back the thought, he said, "I think, sir, that I might; But it would leave my lady's flowers In very ragged plight."

"Well, John, thy vegetable pets Must needs respected be; We'll halve the number once again— Make twenty-five for me. And hark ye, John, when they are made Come up and let me know; And I'll give thee a list of those To whom the flowers must go,"

The twenty-five bouquets were made, And round the village sent; And to whom thinkest thou, my friend, These floral jewels went? Not to the beautiful and proud— Not to the rich and gay— Who, Dives-like, at Luxury's feast Are seated every day.

An aged Pastor, on his desk Saw those fair preachers stand; A Widow wept upon the gift, And blessed the giver's hand. Where Poverty bent o'er her task, They cheered the lonely room; And round the bed where sickness lay, They breathed Health's fresh perfume

Oh! kindly heart and open hand— Those flowers in dust are trod, But they bloom to weave a wreath for thee, In the Paradise of God. Sweet is the Minstrel's task, whose song Of deeds like these may tell; And long may he have power to give, Who wields that Dower so well!



CHAPTER XXIV. THE JEROME CLOCK COMPANY.

FOUNDING EAST BRIDGEPORT—GROWTH OF THE CITY—THE JEROME CLOCK BUBBLE—A RUINED MAN—PAYING HONEST DEBTS—DOWN IN THE DEPTHS.

In the year 1851 Mr. Barnum had purchased from William H. Noble, of Bridgeport, Conn., the undivided half of his late father's homestead—fifty acres of land on the east side of the river, opposite the city of Bridgeport. Together they bought the one hundred and seventy-four acres adjoining, and laid out the entire property in regular streets, and lined them with trees. A beautiful grove of eight acres was reserved for a park. This they intended for a nucleus of a new city, to be known as East Bridgeport.

They then commenced selling alternate lots, at the same price as the land had cost them by the acre, always on condition that a suitable dwelling-house, store or manufactory should be erected on the ground within a year; that every building should be placed at a certain distance from the street; that the style of architecture should be approved by the sellers; that the grounds be inclosed with suitable fences, and that in all respects the locality should be kept desirable for respectable residents.

A new foot-bridge was built across the river, connecting the new town with the city of Bridgeport, and a public toll-bridge, which belonged to Barnum and Noble, was thrown open to the public free. They also erected a covered drawbridge at a cost of $16,000, which was made free to the public for several years.

They built and leased to a union company of young coach-makers a large manufactory, which was one of the first buildings erected in the town, and which went into operation on the first day of the year 1852.

In addition to the inducements of low prices for the lots, the owners advanced one-half, two-thirds, and sometimes all the funds to erect buildings, permitting the purchasers to repay them in small sums at their own convenience. The town, under such favorable auspices, began to develop and to grow with great rapidity.

No one of Barnum's schemes had ever interested him as this one did. He was willing to listen to any one who thought they had a project favorable to the advancement of the new city. It was the man's weak spot, and it was this weak spot which was destined to be touched once too often.

There was a small clock factory in the town of Litchfield, in which Barnum was a stockholder. Thinking always of his beloved enterprise, it occurred to him at length that if the Litchfield clock company could be transferred to East Bridgeport, it would necessarily bring with it numerous families to swell the population. A new stock company was formed, under the name of the "Terry and Barnum Manufacturing Company," and in 1852 a factory was built in East Bridgeport.

It will be seen how recklessly the owners of the site were spending money. They looked for their profits wholly from the sale of the reserved lots, which they felt sure would bring high values.

In 1855 Mr. Barnum was visited by the President of the Jerome Clock Company, Mr. Chauncey Jerome, with a proposition that the concern, which was reputed to be very wealthy, should be removed to East Bridgeport. Negotiations were opened, and at last Barnum was offered a transfer of the great manufactory with its seven hundred to one thousand employees, if he would lend his name as security for $110,000 in aid of the company.

He was shown an official report of the directors of the company, exhibiting a capital of $400,000 with a surplus of $187,000. They were in need of money to tide over a dull season and a market glutted with goods. The company also was represented as being extremely loth to dismiss any of their employees, who would suffer greatly if their means of livelihood were taken from them. The company was reputed to be rich; the President, Mr. Chauncey Jerome, had built a church in New Haven, at a cost of $40,000, and proposed to present it to a congregation; he had given a clock to a church in Bridgeport, and these things showed that he, at least, thought he was wealthy. The Jerome clocks were for sale all over the world, even in China, where the Celestials were said to take out the "movements," and use the cases for little temples for their idols, "Thus proving that faith was possible without 'works,' " as Mr. Barnum said.

Further testimony came in the form of a letter from the cashier of one of the New Haven banks, expressing the highest confidence in the financial strength of the company. Barnum afterwards learned that his correspondent represented a bank which was one of the largest creditors of the concern.

Barnum finally agreed to lend the clock company his notes for a sum not to exceed $50,000, and to accept drafts to an amount not to exceed $60,000. He also received the written guarantee of the President, Chauncey Jerome, that in no event should he lose by the loan, as he would be personally responsible for the repayment. Mr. Barnum was willing that his notes should be taken up and renewed an indefinite number of times just so the maximum of $110,000 was not exceeded. Upon the representation that it was impossible to say exactly when it would be necessary to use the notes, Barnum was induced to put his name to several notes for $3,000, $5,000 and $10,000, leaving the date of payment blank, it being stipulated that the blanks should be filled to make the notes payable in five, ten, or even sixty days from date. On the other hand, it was agreed that the Jerome Company should exchange its stock with the Terry and Barnum stockholders, thus absorbing that concern, and unite the whole business in East Bridgeport.

Three months later Barnum's memoranda showed that the entire $110,000 had been used. He was then solicited by the New York agent of the company for five additional notes for $5,000 each. The request was refused unless they would return an equal amount of his own cancelled notes, since the agent assured him that they were cancelling these notes "every week." The cancelled notes were brought him next day and he renewed them. This he did afterwards very frequently, until at last his confidence in their integrity became so firmly established that he ceased to ask to see the notes that had been taken up, but furnished new paper as often as it was desired.

But gradually the rumor that the banks were hesitating about discounting his paper came to Barnum's ears. Wondering at this, he made a few inquiries, which resulted in the startling discovery that his notes had never been taken up, as represented by the Jerome Company, and that some of the blank-date notes had been made payable in twelve, eighteen and twenty-four months. Further investigation revealed the fact that he had indorsed for the company to the amount of over half a million dollars, and that most of the notes had been exchanged for old Jerome Company notes due to the banks and other creditors.

Barnum simply went to work, paid every debt he owed in the world, and—failed!

The Jerome Company also failed, and in addition to absorbing Barnum's fortune, was able to pay only about fifteen per cent. of its own obligations. Of course it never removed to East Bridgeport at all.

The failure was a nine-days' wonder all over the country. Never had Barnum achieved such notoriety. As he expressed it, he was taken to pieces, analyzed, put together again, kicked, "pitched into," tumbled about, preached to, preached about, and made to serve every purpose to which a sensation loving world could put him.

Barnum declared that he could stand the abuse, the cooling of false friends and even the loss of fortune, but it made him furious to read and hear the moralizings over the "instability of ill-gotten gains." His fortune, if made quickly, had been honestly worked for and honorably acquired, though envious people pretended not to believe it.



CHAPTER XXV. THE WHEAT AND THE CHAFF.

FALSE AND TRUE FRIENDS—MEETING OF BRIDGEPORT CITIZENS—BARNUM'S LETTER—TOM THUMB'S OFFER—SHILLABER'S POEM—BARNUM'S MESSAGE TO THE CREDITORS OF THE JEROME CLOCK COMPANY—REMOVAL TO NEW YORK—BEGINNING LIFE ANEW AT FORTY-SIX.

But while misfortune reveals a man his foes, it also shows him his friends. Barnum was overwhelmed with offers of assistance, funds were declared at his disposal, both for the support of his family and to re-establish him in business. "Benefits" by the score were offered him, and there was even a proposition among leading citizens of New York to give a series of benefits.

Every one of these offers Barnum declined on his unvarying principle of never accepting a money favor. The following correspondence is taken from the New York papers of the time, and will show the stand he took in the matter:

NEW YORK, June 2d, 1856.

MR. P. T. BARNUM:

Dear Sir. The financial ruin of a man of acknowledged energy and enterprise is a public calamity. The sudden blow, therefore, that has swept away, from a man like yourself, the accumulated wealth of years, justifies, we think, the public sympathy. The better to manifest our sincere respect for your liberal example in prosperity, as well as exhibit our honest admiration of your fortitude under overwhelming reverses, we propose to give that sympathy a tangible expression by soliciting your acceptance of a series of benefits for your family, the result of which may possibly secure for your wife and children a future home, or at least rescue them from the more immediate consequences of your misfortune.

Freeman Hunt, E. K. Collins, Isaac V. Fowler, James Phalen, Cornelius Vanderbilt, F. B. Cutting, James W. Gerard, Simeon Draper, Thomas McElrath, Park Godwin, R. F. Carman, Gen. C. W. Sanford, Philo Hurd, President H. R. R.; Wm. Ellsworth, President Brooklyn Ins. Co.; George S. Doughty, President Excelsior Ins. Co.; Chas. T. Cromwell, Robert Stuyvesant, E. L. Livingston, R. Busteed, Wm. P. Fettridge, E. N. Haughwout, Geo. F. Nesbitt, Osborne Boardman & Townsend, Charles H. Delavan, I. & C. Berrien, Fisher & Bird, Solomon & Hart, B. Young, M. D., Treadwell, Acker & Co., St. Nicholas Hotel; John Wheeler, Union Square Hotel; S. Leland & Co., Metropolitan Hotel; Albert Clark, Brevoort House; H. D. Clapp, Everett House; John Taylor, International Hotel; Sydney Hopman, Smithsonian Hotel; Messrs. Delmonico, Delmonico's; Geo. W. Sherman, Florence's Hotel; Kingsley & Ainslee, Howard Hotel; Libby & Whitney, Lovejoy's Hotel; Howard & Brown, Tammany Hall; Jonas Bartlett, Washington Hotel; Patten & Lynde, Pacific Hotel; J. Johnson, Johnson's Hotel, and over 1,000 others.

To this gratifying communication he replied as follows:

LONG ISLAND, Tuesday, June 3d, 1856.

GENTLEMEN: I can hardly find words to express my gratitude for your very kind proposition. The popular sympathy is to me far more precious than gold, and that sympathy seems in my case to extend from my immediate neighbors, in Bridgeport, to all parts of our Union.

Proffers of pecuniary assistance have reached me from every quarter, not only from friends, but from entire strangers. Mr. Wm. E. Burton, Miss Laura Keene, and Mr. Wm. Niblo have in the kindest manner tendered me the receipts of their theatres for one evening, Mr. Gough volunteered he proceeds of one of his attractive lectures; Mr. James Phalon generously offered me the free use of the Academy of Music; many professional ladies and gentlemen have urged me to accept their gratuitous services. I have, on principle, respectfully declined them all, as I beg, with the most grateful acknowledgments (at least for the present), to decline yours—not because a benefit, in itself, is an objectionable thing, but because I have ever made it a point to ask nothing of the public on personal grounds, and should prefer, while I can possibly avoid that contingency, to accept nothing from it without the honest conviction that I had individually given it in return a full equivalent.

While favored with health, I feel competent to earn an honest livelihood for myself and family. More than this I shall certainly never attempt with such a load of debt suspended in terrorem over me. While I earnestly thank you, therefore, for your generous consideration, gentlemen, I trust you will appreciate my desire to live unhumiliated by a sense of dependence, and believe me, sincerely yours, P. T. BARNUM.

To Messrs. FREEMAN HUNT, E. K. COLLINS, and others.

And with other offers of assistance from far and near, came the following from a little gentleman who did not forget his old friend and benefactor in the time of trial:

JONES HOTEL, PHILADELPHIA, May 12th, 1856.

MY DEAR MR. BARNUM: I understand your friends, and that means "all creation," intend to get up some benefits for your family. Now, my dear sir, just be good enough to remember that I belong to that mighty crowd, and I must have a finger (or at least a "thumb") in that pie. I am bound to appear on all such occasions in some shape, from "Jack the Giant killer," Up-stairs, to the door-keeper down, whichever may serve you best; and there are some feats that I can perform as well as any other man of my inches. I have just started out on my Western tour, and have my carriage, ponies, and assistants all here, but I am ready to go on to New York, bag and baggage, and remain at Mrs. Barnum's service as long as I, in a small way, can be useful. Put me into any "heavy" work, if you like. Perhaps I can not lift as much as some other folks, but just take your pencil in hand and you will see I can draw a tremendous load. I drew two hundred tons at a single pull to-day, embracing two thousand persons, whom I hauled up safely and satisfactorily to all parties, at one exhibition. Hoping that you will be able to fix up a lot of magnets that will attract all New York, and volunteering to sit on any part of the loadstone, I am, as ever, your little but sympathizing friend, GEN. TOM THUMB.

All the prominent papers published editorials and paragraphs full of sympathy for the great man's misfortune, the Saturday Evening Gazette of Boston breaking out in the following poem.

BARNUM REDIVIVUS.

A WORD FOR BARNUM.

BARNUM, your hand! Though you are "down," And see full many a frigid shoulder, Be brave, my brick, and though they frown, Prove that misfortune makes you bolder. There's many a man that sneers, my hero, And former praise converts to scorning, Would worship—when he fears—a Nero, And bend "where thrift may follow fawning."

You humbugged us—that we have seen, WE GOT OUR MONEY'S WORTH, old fellow, And though you thought our MINDS were GREEN, We never thought your HEART was YELLOW. We knew you liberal, generous, warm, Quick to assist a falling brother, And, with such virtues, what's the harm All memories of your faults to smother?

We had not heard the peerless Lind, But for your spirit enterprising, You were the man to raise the wind, And make a coup confessed surprising. You're reckoned in your native town A friend in need, a friend in danger, You ever keep the latch-string down, And greet with open hand the stranger.

Stiffen your upper lip. You know Who are your friends and who your foes now; We pay for knowledge as we go; And though you get some sturdy blows now, You've a fair field—no favors crave— The storm once passed will find you braver— In virtue's cause long may you wave, And on the right side, never waver.

The editor of the paper was Mr. B. P. Shillaber, better known as "Mrs. Partington," and to him Barnum years later wrote to find out the author of this effusion. Mr. Shillaber replied as follows: CHELSEA, April 25th, 1868.

MY DEAR MR. BARNUM: The poem in question was written by A. Wallace Thaxter, associate editor with Mr. Clapp and myself, on the Gazette—since deceased, a glorious fellow—who wrote th poem from a sincere feeling of admiration for yourself. Mr. Clapp (Hon. W. W. Clapp) published it with his full approbation. I heard of your new trouble, in my sick chamber, where I have been all winter, with regret, and wish you as ready a release from attending difficulty as your genius has hitherto achieved under like circumstances. Yours, very truly B. F. SHILLABER.

The manifestations of sympathy from his fellow-citizens in Bridgeport gratified Barnum more than all the rest. The Mayor headed and more than 300 leading citizens signed a call for a mass meeting of sympathy.

At the hour appointed for the meeting a large assemblage crowded Washington Hall, the principal hall of the city. Many people thronged the door, unable to gain entrance.

Mr. Charles B. Hubbell, President of the Pequonnock Bank, was appointed President; Messrs. Charles Foote, Cashier of the Connecticut Bank; Stephen Tomlinson, President of the Farmers' Bank; Samuel F. Hurd, President of the Bridgeport City Bank, Hanford Lyon, Dwight Morris, E. Ferris Bishop, A. P. Houston, and Wm. H. Noble, Vice-Presidents, and Messrs. Samuel M. Chesney and Julius L. Hanover, Secretaries.

Mr. Dwight Morris said that they had met for the purpose of expressing their sympathy with their former fellow-citizen, P. T. Barnum, in his pecuniary reverses. It was well known how much Mr. Barnum had done for Bridgeport. He had expended large sums to build up their city, had accommodated many of them with the means of securing themselves homes, and it was principally to him that they owed their present beautiful resting-place for the dead. [Applause.] The citizens of Bridgeport hoped that his misfortunes would soon pass away, and that he would ere long resume his position in Bridgeport, and among the citizens of Fairfield County. [Prolonged applause.]

Mr. Wm. H. Noble read the following resolutions.

WHEREAS, Our late neighbor and friend, P. T. Barnum, has become involved in financial misfortune which seems likely to be irretrievable, and to prevent his again residing in our vicinity—Resolved, That we as citizens of Bridgeport deem it an act of justice no less than a slight return for the many acts of liberality, philanthropy, and public spirit in our midst, which have marked his prosperity, to offer him our tribute of respect and sympathy in this the hour of his trouble.

Resolved, That in his intercourse with us in the private and social relations of life, Mr. Barnum is remembered as a man of upright dealings and honorable sentiments—a kind and genial neighbor, and exemplary character, a beneficent philanthropist, and a most generous friend.

Resolved, That in his more extended capacity as a citizen he has enduringly associated his name with numerous objects, which remain as monuments among us, connected with the institutions of religion, education, and commercial prosperity—with the advancement of the mechanical, agricultural, and other useful arts and sciences—with the spirit of public improvement and public morals; and that so long as these remain to us matters of interest, we shall never forget that he has been of them all among the foremost, most liberal, and most efficient promoters.

Resolved, That we hereby express to him our heartfelt sympathy in his misfortunes, our unshaken confidence in his integrity, and our admiration of the dignified fortitude and composure with which he has met the reverses into which he has been dragged, through no fault of his own, except a too generous confidence in pretended friends, and our earnest hope that he may yet return to that wealth which he has so nobly employed and to the community he has so signally benefited.

Resolved, That copies of these resolutions, signed by the President and other officers of this meeting, be transmitted to Mr. Barnum, and also to the press of this city.

Mr. E. B. Goodsell said that Mr. Barnum had been the friend of the poor, and his hospitalities had been extended to men of every State in the Union. The citizens of Bridgeport should be proud to claim as one of their citizens P. T. Barnum. His name was written upon every charity in their city, and the temples of God bore its impress. By a few fell strokes of an ugly pen, he has been drawn into that whirlpool of destruction to himself and almost destruction to many in the city. In the midst of his prosperity, while he was building up a city on the east side of their little harbor, he had fallen by the hand of traitors. He hoped that he might survive his misfortunes and come back to live in their midst. He did not expect that he could ever return with that "pocketful of rocks" which he used to talk so much about; but, if he would come, he for one was ready to pledge himself that he should never starve in the city of Bridgeport. [Loud and prolonged applause.]

Mr. Oakley was loudly called for. He said that he had deep regard for Mr. Barnum in his distress. He was one of the very few people in Bridgeport who had never received any aid from Mr. Barnum, but he was ready to join in any expression of sympathy, and saw no reason why it should not assume a material form [loud applause]. He would only allude to Mr. Barnum's unostentatious benevolence. To one of the churches of the city Mr. Barnum gave $500—to one of their churches in which he felt no interest beyond his interest for Bridgeport, and this was but a specimen of his munificence. Nobody could say that Mr. Barnum had not made the best and most benevolent use of his money [Applause]. He had been the means of adding a large number to the population of Bridgeport. He never yet had found a man who was more eminently the friend of the poor man than P. T. Barnum [Cheers]. He had alleviated the sufferings of many a broken heart, and he had aided many a young man to start in business. If Mr. Barnum had erred, it was only an error of judgment [Cheers]. He sympathized with Mr. Barnum. He had talents which would cope with those of most of the human race. He did not believe that there was a man in the city who had so little soul as to begrudge a tear to him in his misfortune [loud applause]. They should at least send him assurance that there were thousands of hearts in his own city which appreciated his noble benevolence, and loved and honored his character.

Mr. Noble read the following letter from Mr. Barnum:

"NEW YORK, April 25th, 1856. "DEAR SIR: I have just received a slip containing a call for a public meeting of the citizens of Bridgeport, to sympathize with me in my trouble. It is headed by his Honor the Mayor, and is signed by most of our prominent citizens, as well as by many more who by hard labor earn their daily bread, and who appreciate a calamity which at a single blow strips a man of his fortune, his dear home, and all the worldly comfort which years of diligent labor has acquired. It is due to truth to say that I knew nothing of this movement until your letter informed me of it. In misfortune, the true sympathy of neighbors is more consoling and precious than anything which money can purchase. This voluntary offering of my fellow-citizens, though it thrills me with painful emotions and causes tears of gratitude, yet it imparts renewed strength and fills my heart with thankfulness to Providence for raising up to my sight, above all this wreck, kind hearts which soar above the sordid atmosphere of 'dirty dollars.' I can never forget this unexpected kindness from my old friends and neighbors. I trust I am not blind to my many faults and shortcomings; I, however, do feel great consolation in believing that I never used money or position to oppress the poor or wrong my fellowmen, and that I never turned empty away whom I had the power to assist. My poor sick wife, who needs the bracing air which our dear home (made beautiful by her willing hand) would now have afforded her, is driven by the orders of her physician to a secluded spot on Long Island, where the sea-wind lends its healthful influence, and where I have also retired for the double purpose of consoling her and recruiting my own constitution, which, through the excitement of the last few months, has most seriously failed me. In our quiet and humble retreat that which I most sincerely pray for is tranquillity and contentment. I am sure that the remembrance of the kindness of my Bridgeport friends will aid me in securing these cherished blessings. No man who has not passed through similar scenes, can fully comprehend the misery which has been crowded into the last few months of my life; but I have endeavored to preserve my integrity, and I humbly hope and believe that I am being taught humility and reliance upon Providence, which will yet afford a thousand times more peace and true happiness than can be acquired in the dire strife and turmoil, excitements and struggles of this money-worshiping age. The man who coins his brain and blood into gold, who wastes all of his time and thought upon the almighty dollar, who looks no higher than blocks of houses and tracts of lands, and whose iron chest is crammed with stocks and mortgages, tied up with his own heart-strings, may console himself with the idea of safe investments; but he misses a pleasure which I firmly believe this lesson was intended to secure to me, and which it will secure, if I can fully bring my mind to realize its wisdom. I think I hear you say,

When the devil was sick, The devil a saint would be, But when the devil got well, The devil a saint was he.'

"Granted, but after all the man who looks upon the loss of money as anything compared to the loss of honor, or health, or self-respect, or friends; a man who can find no source of happiness except in riches, is to be pitied for his blindness. I certainly feel that the loss of money, of home and my home comforts, is dreadful; that to be driven again to find a resting place away from the friends that I loved, and from where I had fondly hoped I was to end my days. And when I had lavished time, money, and everything to make my descent to the grave placid and pleasant, is indeed a severe lesson; but after all I firmly believe it is for the best, and though my heart may break I will not repine. I regret, beyond expression, that any man should be a loser for having trusted to my name; it would not have been so if I had not myself been deceived. As it is, I am gratified in knowing that all my individual obligations will be met. It would have been much better if clock creditors had accepted the best offers that it was in my power to make them. But it was not so to be, it is now too late, and as I willingly give up all I possess, I can do no more. Wherever my future lot may be cast, I shall ever fondly cherish the kindness which I have always received from the citizens of Bridgeport. I am, my dear sir, "Truly yours, P. T. BARNUM."

The reading of the letter excited much sensation, applause, and laughter.

The resolutions were re-read and passed unanimously.

Mr. William Bishop said it was unusual for citizens to meet together to express sympathy with one who had lost his fortune. It was very common for the people and the press to eulogize a man when he was beyond the reach of human sympathy. He thought it was far better to tender a man the marks of approval while he was yet alive and could appreciate it. [Applause] For along time in this city they were accustomed to bury their dead among the living. Mr. Barnum had done more than any other man to secure to this city the most beautiful-cemetery in Connecticut. He alone had secured to the city what it had never had before—a public square. On the east side of the river he had almost completed a school-house, a thing which could be said of no other man. [Loud cheering.] If material aid were needed, he should be proud to assist in raising it. There was one clause in the resolutions which he did not believe. He did not believe that "in all probability he could ever retrieve" his fortune. [Prolonged cheering.]

Mr. J. E. Dunham made a brief but earnest speech. He hoped this meeting would put down the sneers which were in circulation in relation to Mr. Barnum's sincerity, by showing that those estimated him most who knew him best.

Mr. Nathaniel Greene and Mr. Bowles made short but effective speeches.

The meeting was characterized throughout by the greatest enthusiasm, and adjourned with three loud cheers for Barnum.

Nor was sympathy all his neighbors offered him; shortly after this meeting a number of gentlemen in Bridgeport offered him a loan of $50,000, if that sum would meet the exigency.

Little by little the magnitude of the fraud practiced upon Barnum's too confiding nature dawned upon him. Not only had his notes been used to five times the amount stipulated, but the money had been applied, not to relieving the temporary embarrassment of the company, but almost entirely to the redemption of the old claims of years gone by. Barnum sent two of his friends to New Haven to ask for a meeting of the creditors, authorizing them to say for him in substance:

"GENTLEMEN: This is a capital practical joke! Before I negotiated with your clock company at all, I was assured by several of you, and particularly by a representative of the bank which was the largest creditor of the concern, that the Jerome Company was eminently responsible, and that the head of the same was uncommonly pious. On the strength of such representations solely, I was induced to agree to indorse and accept paper for that company to the extent of $110,000—no more. That sum I am now willing to pay for my own verdancy, with an additional sum of $40,000 for your 'cuteness, making a total of $150,000, which you can have if you cry 'quits' with the fleeced showman and let him off."

Many of the old creditors favored this proposition; but it was found that the indebtedness was so scattered it would be impracticable to attempt a settlement by an unanimous compromise of the creditors.

Barnum therefore turned over his Bridgeport property to Connecticut assignees, moved his family to New York, and made an assignment there of all his other property, real estate and personal effects.

About this time he received a letter from Philadelphia proffering the loan of $500 in case he really was in need. The wording of the letter made Barnum suspicious that it was a trick to ascertain whether he really had any property or if he made an honest settlement to the best of his ability. To this letter Barnum replied that he did need $500, and as he had expected the money never came.

But the Philadelphia banks which were holding the Jerome paper for a higher percentage, at once acceded to the terms which Mr. Barnum had announced himself able to pay,

Every dollar which he owed on his own account he had already paid, and for the liabilities incurred by the swindle which had involved him he offered such a percentage which he thought his estate, when sold, would eventually pay. Mrs. Barnum also gave up certain portions of her own property to redeem such notes as could be secured upon these terms.

They went to live in a hired furnished house in New York, the landlady and her family boarding with them. At forty-six Barnum found himself once more at the foot of the ladder—beginning life anew.

"The situation is disheartening," he said, "but I have experience, energy, health, and hope."



CHAPTER XXVI. IDLENESS WITHOUT REST.

ANNOYING PERSECUTIONS OF CREDITORS—SUMMER ON LONG ISLAND—THE BLACK WHALE PAYS THE BOARD BILL—THE WHEELER & WILSON COMPANY REMOVE TO EAST BRIDGEPORT—SETTING SAIL FOR ENGLAND.

In the summer of 1855 Barnum had sold the American Museum to Messrs. John Greenwood, Jr., and Henry D. Butler. They paid nearly twice as much for the collection as it had originally cost, giving notes for nearly the entire amount, securing the notes by a chattel mortgage, and hiring the premises from Mrs. Barnum, who owned the Museum property lease, and on which, by agreement of the lessees, she realized something like $19,000 a year. The chattel mortgage was, of course, turned over to the New York assignees with the other property.

Barnum's widespread reputation for shrewdness was, in his present difficulties, destined to be the cause of considerable annoyance to him. Certain outside creditors who had bought clock notes at a tremendous discount, believing that Barnum's means were still ample, made up their minds that they must be paid at once without waiting for the sale of the property by assignees.

They, therefore, took what is known as "supplementary proceedings," by which is meant an examination before a judge, compelling the debtor to disclose, under oath, everything in regard to his property, his present means of living, and so on.

"Putting Barnum through a course of sprouts," as they expressed it, came to be a very frequent occurrence. One creditor after another hauled him up, and the attorneys would ask the same questions which had already been answered a dozen times.

This persistent and unnecessary annoyance created a great deal of sympathy for the man, the papers took his part, and even the judges before whom he appeared, personally sided with him, although they were obliged to administer the law. After a while, the judges ruled that he need not answer any questions propounded by an attorney, if he had already answered the same question in any previous examination.

In fact, one of the judges lost all patience on one occasion, and said sharply to the examining attorney:

"This, sir, has become simply a case of persecution. Mr. Barnum has many times answered every question that can properly be put to him, to elicit the desired information; and I think it is time to stop these examinations. I advise him not to answer one interrogatory which he has replied to under any previous inquiries.

One consequential little lawyer commenced his examination in behalf of a note-shaver, who held a thousand dollar note which he had bought for seven hundred. After the oath had been administered, he arranged his pen, ink, and paper, and in a loud tone of voice asked:

"What is your name, sir?"

The answer was given, and the next question delivered in a louder, more peremptory tone was:

"What is your business?"

"Attending bar," answered Barnum.

"Attending bar!" exclaimed the lawyer; "attending bar! Why, I thought you were a teetotaler."

"So I am," declared the witness.

"And yet, sir, you have the audacity to assert that you peddle rum all day, and drink none yourself?"

"That is not a relevant question," said Barnum.

"I will appeal to his Honor the Judge if you don't answer it instantly," said the lawyer, gleefully.

"Very well; I do attend bar, and yet never drink intoxicating liquors."

"Where do you attend bar, and for whom?" pursued the lawyer.

"I attend the bar of this court nearly every day, for the benefit of two-penny lawyers and their greedy clients," replied the disgusted Barnum.

On another occasion a young lawyer who had been pushing his inquiries to a great length, said in a half-laughing tone of apology:

"You see, Mr. Barnum, I am searching after the small thing; I am willing to take even the crumbs that fall from the rich man's table."

"Which are you, then, Lazarus or one of the dogs?" asked Barnum, wearily.

"I guess a blood-hound would not smell out much on this trial," returned the lawyer, good-naturedly, adding that he had no more questions to ask.

On account of Mrs. Barnum's continued ill-health, the family spent the summer in a farm-house at Westhampton, Long Island. The farm lay close to the ocean, and the place was very cool and delightful. The respite from active life, and the annoyance attendant to his financial troubles was of the greatest benefit to Mr. Barnum, who spent the time shooting, fishing, and driving.

One morning they discovered that the waves had thrown up on the beach a young black whale, nearly twelve feet long. The animal was dead, but still hard and fresh, and Barnum bought it for a few dollars from the man who claimed it by right of discovery. He sent it at once to the Museum, where it was exhibited in a huge refrigerator for a few days, where crowds came to see it. The managers very properly gave Barnum a share of the profits, which amounted to a sum sufficient to pay the board-bill of the family for the entire season.

"Well," said the amazed landlord, when he heard of it, "you do beat all for luck. Here you come and board for four months with your family, and when the time is nearly up and you're getting ready to leave, out rolls a big black whale on our beach, a thing never heard of before in this vicinity, and you take that whale and pay your board-bill with it!"

Shortly after his return to New York an unforeseen event occurred which Barnum realized was likely to extricate him from his difficulties.

The new city which had led him into ruin now promised to be his redemption.

The now gigantic Wheeler & Wilson Sewing-Machine Company was then doing a comparatively small yet rapidly growing business at Watertown, Connecticut. The Terroy & Barnum clock factory was standing idle, almost worthless, in East Bridgeport, and Wheeler & Wilson saw in the empty building, the situation, the ease of communication with New York, and other advantages, precisely what they wanted, provided they could procure the premises at a rate which would compensate them for the expense and trouble of removing their establishment from Watertown. The clock factory was sold for a trifle and the wheeler & Wilson Company moved into it and speedily enlarged it.

This important occurrence gave Barnum great hope for the increased value of the land belonging to his estate. And moreover Mr. Wheeler offered him a loan of $5,000 without security, which sum Barnum accepted, and devoted it, together with Mrs. Barnum's money, to purchasing the East Bridgeport property at the assignees' sale and also taking up such clock notes as could be purchased at a reasonable percentage. Though this new plan did eventually result in putting more money in his pocket than the Jerome complication had taken out, yet the process was a slow one. But Barnum concluded to let it work itself out, and meanwhile, with the idea of doing something to help out the accumulation and even saving something to add to the amount, he made up his mind to go to Europe again.

He set sail in 1857, taking with him Tom Thumb and little Cordelia Howard, who had attained celebrity for her artistic rendering of juvenile characters,



CHAPTER XXVII. A PROSPEROUS EXILE.

HIS SUCCESSFUL PUPIL—MAKING MANY FRIENDS IN LONDON—ACQUAINTANCE WITH THACKERAY—A COMEDY OF ERRORS IN A GERMAN CUSTOM HOUSE—ARISTOCRATIC PATRONAGE AT FASHIONABLE RESORTS—BARNUM'S IMPRESSIONS OF HOLLAND AND THE DUTCH.

Years ago Barnum had known Albert Smith in London as a dentist, literary "hack," occasional writer for Punch and various magazines, etc., not achieving notable success in any of these undertakings. He now found him the most eminent and successful showman in the city, occupying Barnum's old quarters in Egyptian Hall. The chief attraction of his show was a panorama of Mont Blanc, accompanying which he gave a lecture, descriptive of the mountain and relating his own experiences in climbing it. When Barnum called upon him he found him just as unassuming and cordial as ever; he was forthwith entered on the free list at all of Smith's entertainments, and the two often dined together at the Garrick Club.

The first time Barnum attended Smith's exhibition, the latter gave him a sly wink from the stage at the moment of his describing a scene in the golden chamber of St. Ursula's church in Cologne, where the old sexton narrating the story of the ashes and bones to the eleven thousand innocent virgins, who, according to tradition, were sacrificed on a certain occasion. One of the characters whom he pretended to have met several times on his trip to Mont Blanc, was a Yankee, whom he named "Phineas Cutecraft." The wink came at the time he introduced Phineas in the Cologne church, and made him say at the end of the sexton's story about the virgins' bones:

"Old fellow, what will you take for that hull lot of bones? I want them for my museum in America!"

When the question had been interpreted to the old German, he exclaimed in horror, according to Albert Smith:

"Mine Gott! it is impossible! We will never sell the virgins' bones!"

"Never mind," replied Phineas Cutecraft, "I'll send another lot of bones to my museum, swear mine are the real bones of the Virgins of Cologne, and burst up your show!"

This always excited the heartiest laughter; but Mr. Smith knew very well that Barnum would at once recognize it as a paraphrase of the scene wherein they, too, had figured in 1844, at the porter's lodge of Warwick Castle. "In the course of the entertainment," says Barnum, "I found he had woven in numerous anecdotes I had told him at that time, and many incidents of our excursion were also travestied and made to contribute to the interest of his description of the ascent of Mont Blanc."

When they dined together at the club that day, Smith introduced Barnum to several of his acquaintances as his teacher in the show business. He also remarked to Barnum that he must have recognized as old friends many of the incidents and jokes in the lecture. Barnum replied that he did. "Well," said Smith, "of course you as a showman, know very well that, to win popular success. we have to appropriate and adapt to our uses everything of the sort that we can get hold of."

By thus engrafting his various experiences upon this Mont Blanc entertainment, Albert Smith succeeded in serving up a salmagundi feast which was relished alike by royal and less distinguished palates.

When William Makepeace Thackeray first visited this country, he brought a letter of introduction to Barnum, from Albert Smith, and called on the showman at his New York museum. He spent an hour or more there, asking much advice of Barnum in regard to the management of the course of lectures on "The English Humorists of the Eighteenth Century," which he proposed to deliver, as he did afterwards, with very great success, in the principal cities of the Union. Barnum gave him the best advice he could as to management, and the cities he ought to visit, for which he was very grateful, and he called on Barnum whenever he was in New York. Barnum also saw him repeatedly when he came to America the second time with his lectures on "The Four Georges," which, it will be remembered, he delivered in the United States in the season of 1855-56, before he read them to audiences in Great Britain. Barnum's relations with this great novelist were cordial and intimate; and now, when he called upon him, in 1857, at his own house, Thackeray grasped him heartily by the hand, and said:

"Mr. Barnum, I admire you more than ever I have read the accounts in the papers of the examinations you underwent in New York courts; and the positive pluck you exhibit under your pecuniary embarrassments is worthy of all praise. You would never have received credit for the philosophy you manifest if these financial misfortunes had not overtaken you."

Barnum thanked him for his compliment, and he continued:

"But tell me, Barnum, are you really in need of present assistance? For if you are you must be helped."

"Not in the least," the showman replied, laughing "I need more money in order to get out of bankruptcy, and I intend to earn it; but so far as daily bread is concerned, I am quite at ease, for my wife is worth L30,000 or L40,000."

"Is it possible!??" he exclaimed, with evident delight; "well, now, you have lost all my sympathy; why, that is more than I ever expect to be worth; I shall be sorry for you no more."

During his stay in London, Barnum met Thackeray several times, and on one occasion dined with him. He repeatedly expressed his obligations to Barnum for the advice and assistance he had given him on the occasion of his first lecturing visit to the United States.

Soon after Barnum arrived in London he was visited by Mr. Otto Goldschmidt, who had married Jenny Lind. They were then living in Dresden, but Madame Goldschmidt had insisted on his hurrying over to England to see her old manager, and ascertain whether he really was in want. Barnum assured him that he was getting on comfortably, though he had to exercise economy, and that his family would presently come over and live with him in London. Goldschmidt urged him to come to Dresden to live. "It is much cheaper living there," he said, "and my wife will be so glad to find a suitable house for you." But Barnum declined the offer. His business prospects would be better in London than in Dresden.

Barnum's old friends, Julius Benedict and Signor Belletti, also called on him frequently, and made him feel much at home. Among others whom he met in London, some of them quite frequently at dinners, were Mr. George Augustus Sala, Mr. Edmund Yates, Mr. Horace Mayhew, Mr. Alfred Bunn, Mr Lumley, of Her Majesty's Theatre; Mr. Buckstone; of the Haymarket; Mr. Charles Kean, our princely countryman; Mr. George Peabody, Mr. J. M. Morris, the manager, Mr. Bates, of Baring Brothers & Co.; Mr. Oxenford, dramatic critic of the London Times, Dr. Ballard, the American dentist, and many other eminent persons.

He had numerous offers from professional friends on both sides of the Atlantic, who supposed him to be in need of employment. Mr. Barney Williams, who had not then acted in England, proposed, in the kindest manner, to make him his agent for a tour through Great Britain, and to give him one-third of the profits which he and Mrs. Williams might make by their acting. Mr. Pettengill, of New York, the newspaper advertising agent, offered him the fine salary of $10,000 a year to transact business for him in Great Britain. He wrote: "When you failed in consequence of the Jerome clock notes, I felt that your creditors were dealing hard with you; that they should have let you up and give you a chance, and they would have fared better, and I wish I was a creditor, so as to show what I would do." These offers, both from Mr. Williams and Mr. Pettengill, Barnum felt obliged to decline.

Mr. Lumley, manager of Her Majesty's Theatre, used to send him an order for a private box for every opera night, and Barnum frequently availed himself of his courtesy.

Meanwhile the showman was by no means idle. Cordelia Howard as "Little Eva," with her mother as the inimitable "Topsy," were highly successful in London and other large cities, while General Tom Thumb, returning after so long an absence, drew crowded houses wherever he went. These were strong spokes in the wheel that was moving slowly but surely in the effort to get Barnum out of debt, and, if possible, to save some portion of his real estate. Of course, it was not generally known that he had any interest whatever in either of these exhibitions; if it had been, possibly some of the clock creditors would have annoyed him; but he busied himself in these and in other ways, working industriously and making much money, which he constantly remitted to his trusty agent at home.

Barnum spent some weeks in London and then went to Germany. He was accompanied by Tom Thumb, and they went by the way of Paris, Strasburg, and Baden-Baden. At the frontier they had a terrible time with the thick-headed customs-inspector. This was at Kehl, near Strasburg. "I knew," said Barnum in telling the story, "that I had no baggage which was rightfully subject to duty, as I had nothing but my necessary clothing, and the package of placards and lithographs, illustrating the General's exhibitions. As the official was examining my trunks, I assured him in French, that I had nothing subject to duty; but he made no reply and deliberately handled every article in my luggage. He then cut the strings to the large packages of show-bills. I asked him in French, whether he understood that language. He gave a grunt, which was the only audible sound I could get out of him, and then laid my show-bills and lithographs on his scales as if to weigh them. I was much excited. An English gentleman, who spoke German, kindly offered to act as my interpreter.

" 'Please to tell him,' said I, 'that those bills and lithographs are not articles of commerce; that they are simply advertisements.'

"My English friend did as I requested; but it was of no use; the custom-house officer kept piling them upon his scales. I grew more excited.

" 'Please tell him I give them away,' I said. The translation of my assertion into German did not help me; a double grunt from the functionary, was the only response. Tom Thumb, meanwhile, jumped about like a little monkey, for he was fairly delighted at my worry and perplexity. Finally, I said to my new found English friend: 'Be good enough to tell the officer to keep the bills if he wants them, and that I will not pay duty on them, any how.'

"He was duly informed of my determination, but he was immovable. He lighted his huge Dutch pipe, got the exact weight, and, marking it down, handed it to a clerk, who copied it on his book, and solemnly passed it over to another clerk, who copied it on still another book; a third clerk then took it, and copied it on to a printed bill, the size of a half letter sheet, which was duly stamped in red ink with several official devices. By this time I was in a profuse perspiration; and, as the document passed from clerk to clerk, I told them they need not trouble themselves to make out a bill, for I would not pay it; they would get no duty and they might keep the property.

"To be sure, I could not spare the placards for any length of time, for they were exceedingly valuable to me as advertisements, and I could not easily have duplicated them in Germany; but I was determined that I would not pay duties on articles which were not merchandise. Every transfer, therefore, of the bill to a new clerk, gave me a fresh twinge, for I imagined that every clerk added more charges, and that every charge was a tighter turn to the vise which held my fingers. Finally, the last clerk defiantly thrust in my face the terrible official document, on which were scrawled certain cabalistic characters, signifying the amount of money I should be forced to pay to the German government before I could have my property. I would not touch it but resolved I would really leave my packages until I could communicate with one of our consuls in Germany, and I said as much to the English gentleman who had kindly interpreted for me.

"He took the bill, and, examining it, burst into a loud laugh, 'Why, it is but fifteen kreutzers!' he said.

" 'How much is that?' I asked, feeling for the golden sovereigns in my pocket.

" 'Sixpence!' was the reply.

"I was astonished and delighted, and, as I handed out the money, I begged him to tell the officials that the custom-house charge would not pay the cost of the paper on which it was written. But this was a very fair illustration of sundry red-tape dealings in other countries as well as in Germany."

Baden-Baden was found to be an uncommonly pleasant place, the neatest and cleanest little city he had ever seen, Barnum thought. As soon as they were fairly settled there, Tom Thumb began driving out on the streets in his tiny carriage, with his ponies and liveried coachmen and footmen. Public curiosity was greatly excited. The place was thronged with visitors, it being one of the most popular resorts in Europe. There were kings and queens, and minor royalties and members of the nobility without number. All these soon forgot their other amusements and entertainments in their interest in the little General. They crowded his rooms at his reception every day, and Barnum, seeing the quality of his patrons, put the entrance fee higher than it ever was at any other place. Their stay at this resort was exceedingly profitable.

Thence they proceeded to the other German watering places, such as Ems, Weisbaden and Hamburg. They saw that it paid to strike for high game. No matter how high their fee, the crowned, titled, rich, aristocratic throng came to their show by thousands. Among them was the King of Holland, who was particularly interested in Tom Thumb. So profitable was the tour, that Barnum was able to send many thousands of dollars to his agents in America, to buy back his real estate and settle up the remains of the disastrous clock business.

Other German cities visited were Frankfort-on-the-Main, Mayence and Cologne. At the latter place, they remained for some time, seeing as well as giving shows. Then they went on to Rotterdam and Amsterdam.

The shrewd and enterprising Yankee was much impressed by the thrift and industry of Holland. "It gave me," he afterwards said, "more genuine satisfaction than any other foreign country I have ever visited, if I except Great Britain. Redeemed as a large portion of the whole surface of the land has been from the bottom of the sea, by the wonderful dykes, which are monuments of the industry of whole generations of human beavers, Holland seems to me the most curious, as well as interesting country in the world. The people, too, with their quaint costumes, their extraordinary cleanliness, their thrift, industry and frugality, pleased me very much. It is the universal testimony of all travellers, that the Hollanders are the neatest and most economical people among all nations. So far as cleanliness is concerned, in Holland it is evidently not next to, but far ahead of godliness. It is rare, indeed, to meet a ragged, dirty, or drunken person. The people are very temperate and economical in their habits; and even the very rich—and there is a vast amount of wealth in the country—live with great frugality, though all of the people live well.

"As for the scenery, I cannot say much for it, since it is only diversified by thousands of windmills, which are made to do all kinds of work, from grinding grain to pumping water from the inside of the dykes back to the sea again. As I exhibited the General only in Rotterdam and Amsterdam, and to no great profit in either city, we spent most of our time in rambling about to see what was to be seen. In the country villages it seemed as if every house was scrubbed twice and whitewashed once every day in the week, excepting Sunday. Some places were almost painfully pure, and I was in one village where horses and cattle were not allowed to go through the streets and no one was permitted to wear their boots or shoes in the houses. There is a general and constant exercise of brooms, pails, floor-brushes and mops all over Holland, and in some places, even, this kind of thing is carried so far, I am told, that the only trees set out are scrub-oaks."

Barnum thought that the reason why his exhibitions were not better patronized here was that the people were too frugal to spend much money for mere amusements. "But they and their habits and ways afforded us so much amusement, that we were quite willing they should give our entertainment the 'go by,' as they generally did. We were in Amsterdam at the season of 'Kremis,' or the annual fair, which is held in all the principal towns, and where shows of all descriptions are open, at prices for admission ranging from one to five pennies, and are attended by nearly the whole population. For the people generally, this one great holiday seems all-sufficient for the whole year. I went through scores of booths, where curiosities and monstrosities of all kinds were exhibited, and was able to make some purchases and engagements for the American Museum. Among these was the Albino family, consisting of a man, his wife, and son, who were by far the most interesting and attractive specimens of their class I had ever seen.

"We visited the Hague, the capital and the finest city in Holland. It is handsomely and regularly laid out, and contains a beautiful theatre, a public picture gallery, which contains some of the best works of Vandyke, Paul Potter, and other Dutch masters, while the museum is especially rich in rarities from China and Japan. When we arrived at the Hague, Mr. August Belmont, who had been the United States Minister at that court, had just gone home, but I heard many encomiums passed upon him and his family, and I was told some pretty good stories of his familiarity with the king, and of the 'jolly times' these two personages frequently enjoyed together. I did not miss visiting the great government museum, as I wished particularly to see the rich collection of Japan ware and arms, made during the many years when the Dutch carried on almost exclusively the entire foreign trade with the Japanese. I spent several days in minutely examining these curious manufactures of a people who were then almost as little known to nations generally as are the inhabitants of the planet Jupiter."

On the first day of his visits to this museum, Barnum stood for an hour before a large case containing a most unique and extraordinary collection of fabulous animals, made from paper and other materials, and looking as natural and genuine as the stuffed skins of any animals in the American Museum. There were serpents two yards long, with a head and a pair of feet at each end; frogs as large as a man, with human hands and feet; turtles with three heads; monkeys with two heads and six legs; scores of equally curious monstrosities; and at least two dozen mermaids, of all sorts and sizes. Looking at these "sirens" he easily divined from whence the Feejee mermaid originated.

After a delightful visit in Holland, he went back to England; and proceeding to Manchester, opened his exhibition. For several days the hall was crowded to overflowing at each of the three, and sometimes four, entertainments they gave every day. By this time, his wife and two youngest daughters had come over to London, and he hired furnished lodgings in the suburbs where they could live within the strictest limits of economy. It was necessary now for him to return for a few weeks to America, to assist personally in forwarding a settlement of the clock difficulties. So leaving the little General in the hands of trusty and competent agents to carry on the exhibitions in his absence, he set his face once more towards home and the west, and took steamer at Liverpool for New York.



CHAPTER XXVIII. HOME AGAIN.

JOLLY VOYAGE—MOCK TRIALS ON SHIPBOARD—BARNUM ON TRIAL FOR HIS LIFE—DISCOMFITED WITNESSES AND A TRIUMPHANT PRISONER—FAIR WEATHER FRIENDS—THE BURNING OF IRANISTAN

Barnum made in his life many voyages across the Atlantic, but none, perhaps, pleasanter than this. On every such trip he got under rest and relief from his multitudinous business cares and arduous labors; and he always contrived to organize plenty of merry-making among his fellow-passengers. On this occasion he felt in uncommonly good spirits because he was so rapidly retrieving his well-nigh fallen fortunes. The feature of the voyage was a series of mock trials, in which a judge was selected, jurymen drawn, prisoners arraigned, counsel employed, and all the formalities of a court established. "I have the vanity to think," said he, afterwards, in telling in his own inimitable way the story of this voyage, "that if my good fortune had directed me to that profession, I should have made a very fair lawyer for I have always had a great fondness for debate and especially for the cross-examination of witnesses, unless that witness was P. T. Barnum in examination under supplementary proceedings at the instance of some note shaver, who had bought a clock note at a discount of thirty-six per cent. In this mock court, I was unanimously chosen as prosecuting attorney, and, as the court was established expressly to convict, I had no difficulty in carrying the jury and securing the punishment of the prisoner. A small fine was generally imposed, and the fund thus collected was given to a poor sailor boy who had fallen from the mast and broken his leg."

"After several of these trials had been held, a dozen or more of the passengers secretly put their heads together and resolved to place the 'showman' on trial for his life. An indictment, covering twenty pages, was drawn up by several legal gentlemen among the passengers, charging him with being the Prince of Humbugs, and enumerating a dozen special counts, containing charges of the most absurd and ridiculous description. Witnesses were then brought together, and privately instructed what to say and do. Two or three days were devoted to arranging this mighty prosecution, 'When everything was ready, I was arrested, and the formidable indictment read to me. I saw at a glance that time and talent had been brought into requisition, and that my trial was to be more elaborate than any that had preceded it. I asked for half an hour to prepare for my defense, which was granted. Meanwhile, seats were arranged to accommodate the court and spectators, and extra settees were placed for the ladies on the upper deck, where they could look down, see and hear all that transpired. Curiosity was on tip-toe, for it was evident that this was to be a long, exciting and laughable trial. At the end of half an hour the judge was on the bench the jury had taken their places; the witnesses were ready; the counsel for the prosecution, four in number, with pens, ink, and paper in profusion, were seated, and everything seemed ready. I was brought in by a special constable, the indictment read, and I was asked to plead guilty, or not guilty. I rose and In a most solemn manner, stated that I could not conscientiously plead guilty or not guilty; that I had, in fact, committed many of the acts charged in the indictment, but these acts, I was ready to show, were not criminal, but on the contrary, worthy of praise. My plea was received and the first witness called.

"He testified to having visited the prisoner's museum, and of being humbugged by the Feejee mermaid; the nurse of Washington; and by other curiosities, natural and unnatural. The questions and answers having been all arranged in advance, everything worked smoothly. Acting as my own counsel, I cross-examined the witness by simply asking whether he saw anything else in the museum besides what he had mentioned.

" 'Oh! yes, I saw thousands of other things.'

" 'Were they curious?'

" 'Certainly; many of them very astonishing.'

" 'Did you ever witness a dramatic representation in the museum?'

" 'Yes, sir, a very good one.'

" 'What did you pay for all this?'

" 'Twenty-five cents.'

" 'That will do, sir; you can step down.'

"A second, third and fourth witness were called, and the examination was similar to the foregoing. Another witness then appeared to testify in regard to another count in the indictment. He stated that for several weeks he was the guest of the prisoner, at his country residence Iranistan and he gave a most amusing description of the various schemes and contrivances which were there originated for the purpose of being carried out at some future day in the museum.

" 'How did you live there?' asked one of the counsel for the prosecution.

" 'Very well, indeed, in the daytime,' was the reply; 'plenty of the best to eat and drink except liquors. In bed, however, it was impossible to sleep. I rose the first night, struck a light, and on examination found myself covered with myriads of tattle bugs, so small as to be almost imperceptible. By using my microscope I discovered them to be infantile bedbugs. After the first night I was obliged to sleep in the coach-house in order to escape this annoyance.'

"Of course this elicited much mirth. The first question put on the cross-examination was this:

" 'Are you a naturalist, sir?'

"The witness hesitated. In all the drilling that had taken place before the trial, neither the counsel nor witnesses had thought of what questions might come up in the cross-examination, and now, not seeing the drift of the question, the witness seemed a little bewildered, and the counsel for the prosecution looked puzzled.

"The question was repeated with some emphasis.

" 'No, sir,' replied the witness, hesitatingly, 'I am not a naturalist.'

" 'Then, sir, not being a naturalist, dare you affirm that those microscopic insects were not humbugs instead of bedbugs'—(here the prisoner was interrupted by a universal shout of laughter, in which the solemn judge himself joined)—land if they were humbugs, I suppose that even the learned counsel opposed to me will not claim that they were out of place.

" 'They may have been humbugs,' replied the witness.

" 'That will do, sir; you may go,' said I; and at the same time, turning to the array of counsel, I remarked, with a smile, 'You had better have a naturalist for your next witness, gentlemen.'

" 'Don't be alarmed, sir, we have got one, and we will now introduce him,' replied the counsel.

"The next witness testified that he was a planter from Georgia, that some years since the prisoner visited his plantation with a show, and that while there he discovered an old worthless donkey belonging to the planter, and bought him for five dollars. The next year the witness visited Iranistan, the country seat of the prisoner, and, while walking about the grounds, his old donkey, recognizing his former master, brayed; 'whereupon,' continued the witness, 'I walked up to the animal and found that two men were engaged in sticking wool upon him, and this animal was afterwards exhibited by the prisoner as the woolly horse.'

"The whole court—spectators, and even the 'prisoner' himself—were convulsed with laughter at the gravity with which the planter gave his very ludicrous testimony.

" 'What evidence have you,' I inquired, 'that this was the same donkey which you sold to me?'

" 'The fact that the animal recognized me, as was evident from his braying as soon as he saw me.'

" 'Are you a naturalist, sir?'

" 'Yes, I am,' replied the planter, with firm emphasis, as much as to say, you can't catch me as you did the other witness.

" 'Oh! you are a naturalist, are you? Then, sir, I ask you, as a naturalist, do you not know it to be a fact in natural history that one jackass always brays as soon as he sees another?'

"This question was received with shouts of laughter, in the midst of which the nonplussed witness backed out of court, and all the efforts of special constables, and even the high sheriff himself, were unavailing in getting him again on the witness stand.

"This trial lasted two days, to the great delight of all on board. After my success with the 'naturalist,' not one-half of the witnesses would appear against me. In my final argument I sifted the testimony, analyzed its bearings, ruffled the learned counsel, disconcerted the witnesses, flattered the judge and jury, and when the judge had delivered his charge, the jury acquitted me without leaving their seats. The judge received the verdict, and then announced that he should fine the naturalist for the mistake he made, as to the cause of the donkey's braying, and he should also fine the several witnesses, who, through fear of the cross-fire, had refused to testify."

The trial afforded a pleasant topic of conversation for the rest of the voyage; and the morning before arriving in port, a vote of thanks was passed to Barnum, in consideration of the amusement he had intentionally and unintentionally furnished to the passengers during the voyage.

The treatment to which Barnum was subjected on his arrival in New York, was in strange and discreditable contrast to that which he had enjoyed abroad. He sometimes spoke of it in later life, though without any bitterness. He was too much of a philosopher to take it to heart. "After my arrival," he would say, "often, in passing up and down Broadway, I saw old and prosperous friends coming, but before I came anywhere near them, if they espied me, they would dodge into a store, or across the street, or opportunely meet some one with whom they had pressing business, or they would be very much interested in something that was going on over the way, or on top of the City Hall. I was delighted at this, for it gave me at once a new sensation and a new experience. 'Ah, ha!' I said to myself, 'my butterfly friends, I know you now; and, what is more to the point, if ever I get out of this bewilderment of broken clock-wheels, I shall not forget you;' and I heartily thanked the old clock concern for giving me the opportunity to learn this sad but most needful lesson. I had a very few of the same sort of experiences in Bridgeport, and they proved valuable to me."

One of Barnum's assignees was his neighbor and quondam "gamekeeper," Mr. Johnson, and he it was who had written to Barnum to return to America, to facilitate the settlement of his affairs. He now told him that there was no probability of disposing of Iranistan at present, and that therefore he might as well move back into his old home. That was August. In September, Barnum's family followed him to America, and they decided to take Mr. Johnson's advice and re-occupy Iranistan. They went to Bridgeport, to superintend arrangements, and there Barnum's second daughter, Helen, was married to Mr. S. W. Hurd, on October 20, 1857.

"Meanwhile, Iranistan, which had been closed and unoccupied for more than two years, was once more opened to the carpenters and painters whom Mr. Johnson sent there to put the house in order. He agreed with Barnum that it was best to keep the property as long as possible, and in the interval, till a purchaser for the estate appeared, or till it was forced to auction, to take up the clock notes, whenever they were offered. The workmen who were employed in the house were specially instructed not to smoke there, but nevertheless, it was subsequently discovered that some of the men were in the habit occasionally of going into the main dome to eat their dinners which they brought with them, and that they stayed there awhile after dinner to smoke their pipes. In all probability, one of these lighted pipes was left on the cushion which covered the circular seat in the dome and ignited the tow with which the cushion was stuffed. It may have been days and even weeks before this smouldering tow fire burst into flame.

Barnum was staying at the Astor House, in New York, when, on the morning of December 18, 1857, he received a telegram from his brother, Philo F. Barnum, dated at Bridgeport, and informing him that Iranistan was burned to the ground that morning. The alarm was given at eleven o'clock on the night of the 17th, and the fire burned till one o'clock on the morning of the 18th.

This was, of course, a considerable loss to Barnum's estate, for the house had cost about $150,000. It was also generally regarded as a public calamity. This house had been the only building in its peculiar style of architecture of any pretension in America, and many persons had visited Bridgeport every year expressly to see it. The insurance on the mansion had usually been about $62,000, but Barnum had let some of the policies expire without renewing them, so that at the time of the fire there was only $28,000 insurance on the property. Most of the furniture and pictures were saved, generally in a damaged state.

Subsequently, the assignees sold the grounds and outhouses of Iranistan to Elias Howe, Jr., the inventor of the sewing-machine. The property brought $50,000, which, with the $28,000 insurance went into Barnum's assets to satisfy clock creditors. It was Mr. Howe's intention to erect a splendid mansion on the estate, but his untimely and lamented death prevented the fulfilment of the plan.



CHAPTER XXIX. THE ART OF MONEY GETTING.

THE LECTURE FIELD—SUCCESS—CAMBRIDGE—OXFORD—AN UNIQUE ENTERTAINMENT—BARNUM EQUAL TO THE OCCASION—INVITED TO STAY A WEEK.

Seeing the necessity of making more money to assist in extricating his affairs from financial disorder, Barnum went back to England, taking with him Tom Thumb, whom he exhibited in all the principal places of England, Scotland and Wales; this was early in 1858.

The tour was a profitable one, and the money, as fast as it came in, was remitted to his agents and assignees in America.

At the suggestion of some of his American friends In London, Barnum next appeared on the lecture platform. The subject chosen was "The Art of Money Getting," although Barnum told his friends that in the light of recent events he felt more competent to speak on the art of money losing. But they assured him that his name having been associated with the Jenny Lind concerts and other great money-making enterprises, the lecture would undoubtedly prove both attractive and profitable.

The lecture was widely advertised, of course, and at the appointed time the great St. James' Hall, Regent Street, Piccadilly, was completely filled. It was the evening of December 29, 1858. We subjoin extracts from the lecture, which was closely listened to and well received by many more audiences than the one which heard it first at St. James' Hall.

Those who really desire to attain an independence, have only to set their minds upon it, and adopt the proper means, as they do in regard to any other object which they wish to accomplish, and the thing is easily done. But however easy it may be found to make money, I have no doubt many of my hearers will agree it is the most difficult thing in the world to keep it. The road to wealth is, as Dr. Franklin truly says, "as plain as the road to mill." It consists simply in expending less than we earn; that seems to be a very simple problem. Mr. Micawber, one of those happy creations of the genial Dickens, puts the case in a strong light when he says that to have an income of twenty pounds per annum, and spend twenty pounds and sixpence, is to be the most miserable of men; whereas, to have an income of only twenty pounds, and spend but nineteen pounds and sixpence, is to be the happiest of mortals. Many of my hearers may say, "we understand this; this is economy, and we know economy is wealth; we know we can't eat our cake and keep it also." Yet I beg to say that perhaps more cases of failure arise from mistakes on this point than almost any other. The fact is, many people think they understand economy when they really do not.

True economy is misapprehended, and people go through life without properly comprehending what that principle is. One says, "I have an income of so much, and here is my neighbor who has the same; yet every year he gets something ahead and I fall short; why is it? I know all about economy." He thinks he does, but he does not. There are many who think that economy consists in saving cheese-parings and candle-ends, in cutting off twopence from the laundress' bill and doing all sorts of little mean, dirty things. Economy is not meanness. The misfortune is, also, that this class of persons let their economy apply in only one direction. They fancy they are so wonderfully economical in saving a half-penny where they ought to spend twopence, that they think they can afford to squander in other directions. A few years ago, before kerosene oil was discovered or thought of, one might stop over night at almost any farmer's house in the agricultural districts and get a very good supper, but after supper he might attempt to read in the sitting-room, and would find it impossible with the inefficient light of one candle. The hostess, seeing his dilemma, would say: "It is rather difficult to read here evenings; the proverb says 'you must have a ship at sea in order to be able to burn two candles at once;' we never have an extra candle except on extra occasions." These extra occasions occur, perhaps, twice a year. In this way the good woman saves five, six, or ten dollars in that time; but the information which might be derived from having the extra light would, of course, far outweigh a ton of candles.

But the trouble does not end here. Feeling that she is so economical in tallow candles, she thinks she can afford to go frequently to the village and spend twenty or thirty dollars for ribbons and furbelows, many of which are not necessary. This false economy may frequently be seen in men of business, and in those instances it often runs to writing-paper. You find good business men who save all the old envelopes and scraps, and would not tear a new sheet of paper, if they could avoid it, for the world. This is all very well; they may in this way save five or ten dollars a year, but being so economical (only in note-paper), they think they can afford to waste time; to have expensive parties, and to drive their carriages.

True economy consists in always making the income exceed the out-go. Wear the old clothes a little longer if necessary; dispense with the new pair of gloves; mend the old dress; live on plainer food if need be; so that, under all circumstances, unless some unforeseen accident occurs, there will be a margin in favor of the income. A penny here, and a dollar there, placed at interest, goes on accumulating, and in this way the desired result is attained. It requires some training, perhaps, to accomplish this economy, but when once used to it, you will find there is more satisfaction in rational saving than in irrational spending. Here is a recipe which I recommend; I have found it to work an excellent cure for extravagance, and especially for mistaken economy: When you find that you have no surplus at the end of the year, and yet have a good income, I advise you to take a few sheets of paper and form them into a book and mark down every item of expenditure. Post it every day or week in two columns, one headed "necessaries" or even "comforts," and the other headed "luxuries," and you will find that the latter column will be double, treble, and frequently ten times greater than the former. The real comforts of life cost but a small portion of what most of us can earn.

The foundation of success in life is good health; that is the substratum of fortune; it is also the basis of happiness. A person cannot accumulate a fortune very well when he is sick. He has no ambition; no incentive; no force. Of course, there are those who have bad health and cannot help it; you cannot expect that such persons can accumulate wealth; but there are a great many in poor health who need not be so.

If, then, sound health is the foundation of success and happiness in life, how important it is that we should study the laws of health, which is but another expression for the laws of nature! The closer we keep to the laws of nature the nearer we are to good health, and yet how many persons there are who pay no attention to natural laws, but absolutely transgress them, even against their own natural inclination. We ought to know that the "sin of ignorance" is never winked at in regard to the violation of nature's laws; their infraction always brings the penalty. A child may thrust its finger into the flames without knowing it will burn, and so suffers; repentance, even, will not stop the smart. Many of our ancestors knew very little about the principle of ventilation. They did not know much about oxygen, whatever other "gin" they might have been acquainted with; and consequently, they built their houses with little seven-by-nine feet bedrooms, and these good old pious Puritans would lock themselves up in one of these cells, say their prayers and go to bed. In the morning they would devoutly return thanks for the "preservation of their lives" during the night, and nobody had better reason to be thankful. Probably some big crack in the window, or in the door, let in a little fresh air, and thus saved them.

Many persons knowingly violate the laws of nature against their better impulses, for the sake of fashion. For instance, there is one thing that nothing living except a vile worm ever naturally loved, and that is tobacco; yet how many persons there are who deliberately train an unnatural appetite, and overcome this implanted aversion for tobacco, to such a degree that they get to love it. They have got hold of a poisonous, filthy weed, or rather that takes a firm hold of them. Here are married men who run about spitting tobacco-juice on the carpet and floors, and sometimes even upon their wives besides. They do not kick their wives out-of-doors like drunken men, but their wives, I have no doubt, often wish they were outside of the house. Another perilous feature is that this artificial appetite, like jealousy, "grows by what it feeds on;" when you love that which is unnatural, a stronger appetite is created for the hurtful thing than the natural desire for what is harmless. There is an old proverb which says that "habit is second nature," but an artificial habit is stronger than nature. Take, for instance, an old tobacco-chewer; his love for the "quid" is stronger than his love for any particular kind of food. He can give up roast beef easier than give up the weed.