The Life of Phineas T. Barnum Part 29

"You must not infer, from what I have said, that I have completely recovered from the stunning blow to which I was subjected four years ago. I have lost more in the way of tens of thousands, yes, hundreds of thousands, than I care to remember. A valuable portion of my real estate in Connecticut, however, has been preserved, and as I feel all the ardor of twenty years ago, and the prospect here is so flattering, my heart is animated with the hope of ultimately, by enterprise and activity, obliterating unpleasant reminiscences, and retrieving the losses of the past.

Experience, too, has taught me not only that, even in the matter of money, 'enough is as good as a feast,' but that there are, in this world, some things vastly better than the Almighty Dollar!

Possibly I may contemplate, at times, the painful day when I said 'Oth.e.l.lo's occupation's gone'; but I shall the more frequently cherish the memory of this moment, when I am permitted to announce that Richard's himself again.'

"Many people have wondered that a man considered so acute as myself should have been deluded into embarra.s.sments like mine, and not a few have declared, in short meter, that 'Barnum was a fool.' I can only reply that I never made pretensions to the sharpness of a p.a.w.nbroker, and I hope I shall never so entirely lose confidence in human nature as to consider every man a scamp by instinct, or a rogue by necessity. 'It is better to be deceived sometimes, than to distrust always,' says Lord Bacon, and I agree with him.

"Experience is said to be a hard schoolmaster, but I should be sorry to feel that this great lesson in adversity has not brought forth fruits of some value. I needed the discipline this tribulation has given me, and I really feel, after all, that this, like many other apparent evils, was only a blessing in disguise. Indeed, I may mention that the very clock factory which I built in Bridgeport for the purpose of bringing hundreds of workmen to that city, has been purchased and quadrupled in size by the Wheeler & Wilson Sewing-Machine Company, and is now filled with intelligent New England mechanics, whose families add two thousand to the population, and who are doing a great work in building up and beautifying that flourishing city. So that the same concern which prostrated me seems destined as a most important agent toward my recuperation. I am certain that the popular sympathy has been with me from the beginning; and this, together with a consciousness of rect.i.tude, is more than an offset to all the vicissitudes to which I have been subjected.

"In conclusion, I beg to a.s.sure you and the public that my chief pleasure, while health and strength are spared me, will be to cater for your and their healthy amus.e.m.e.nt and instruction. In future, such capabilities as I possess will be devoted to the maintenance of this Museum as a popular place of family resort, in which all that is novel and interesting shall be gathered from the four quarters of the globe, and which ladies and children may visit at all times unattended, without danger of encountering anything of an objectionable nature. The dramas introduced in the Lecture Room will never contain a profane expression or a vulgar allusion; on the contrary, their tendency will always be to encourage virtue and frown upon vice.

"I have established connections in Europe, which will enable me to produce here a succession of interesting novelties otherwise inaccessible. Although I shall be personally present much of the time, and hope to meet many of my old acquaintances, as well as to form many new ones, I am sure you will be glad to learn that I have re-secured the services of one of the late proprietors, and the active manager of this Museum, Mr. John Greenwood, Jr. As he is a modest gentleman, who would be the last to praise himself, allow me to add that he is one to whose successful qualities as a caterer for the popular entertainments, the crowds that have often filled this building may well bear testimony. But, more than this, he is the un.o.btrusive one to whose integrity, diligence, and devotion I owe much of my present position of self-congratulation. Mr. Greenwood will hereafter act as a.s.sistant manager, while his late co-partner, Mr. Butler, has engaged in another branch of business. Once more, thanking you all for your kind welcome, I bid you, till the re-opening, 'an affectionate adieu.' "

The speech was received with wild enthusiasm, and after the re-opening of the Museum the number of visitors was at once almost doubled.

Among the many newspaper congratulations he received, none gave Barnum more pleasure than a poem from his old admirer on the Boston Sat.u.r.day Evening Gazette.

ANOTHER WORD FOR BARNUM.

Barnum, your hand! The struggle o'er, You face the world and ask no favor; You stand where you have stood before, The old salt hasn't lost its savor.

You now can laugh with friends, at foes'

Ne'er heeding Mrs. Grundy's tattle; You've dealt and taken st.u.r.dy blows, Regardless of the rabble's prattle.

Not yours the heart to harbor ill 'Gainst those who've dealt in trivial jesting; You pa.s.s them with the same good will Erst shown when they their wit were testing.

You're the same Barnum that we knew, You're good for years, still fit for labor, Be as of old, be bold and true, Honest as man, as friend, as neighbor.

At about this period, the following poem was published in a Pottsville, Pa., paper, and copied by many journals of the-day:

A HEALTH TO BARNUM.

Companions! fill your gla.s.ses round And drink a health to one Who has few coming after him, To do as he has done; Who made a fortune for himself, Made fortunes, too, for many, Yet wronged no bosom of a sigh, No pocket of a penny.

Come! shout a gallant chorus, And make the gla.s.ses ring, Here's health and luck to Barnum!

The Exhibition King.

Who lured the Swedish Nightingale To Western woods to come?

Who prosperous and happy made The life of little Thumb?

Who oped Amus.e.m.e.nt's golden door So cheaply to the crowd, And taught Morality to smile On all HIS stage allowed?

Come! shout a gallant chorus, Until the gla.s.ses ring-- Here's health and luck to Barnum!

The Exhibition King.

And when the sad reverses came, As come they may to all, Who stood a Hero, bold and true, Amid his fortune's fall?

Who to the utmost yielded up What Honor could not keep, Then took the field of life again With courage calm and deep?

Come! shout a gallant chorus, Until the gla.s.ses dance-- Here's health and luck to Barnum, The Napoleon of Finance

Yet, no--OUR hero would not look With smiles on such a cup; Throw out the wine--with water clear, Fill the pure crystal up Then rise, and greet with deep respect, The courage he has shown, And drink to him who well deserves A seat on Fortune's throne.

Here's health and luck to Barnum!

An ELBA he has seen, And never may his map of life Display a ST HELENE!

It is of interest to observe that the phrase "Napoleon of Finance," which has in recent years been applied to several Wall Street speculators, was first coined in honorable description of Phineas T. Barnum, because of his honesty as well as his signal success.

CHAPTER x.x.xII. THE STORY OF "GRIZZLY ADAMS."

BARNUM'S PARTNERSHIP WITH THE FAMOUS BEAR HUNTER--FOOLING HIM WITH THE "GOLDEN PIGEONS"--ADAMS EARNS $500 AT DESPERATE COST--TRICKING BARNUM OUT OF A FINE HUNTING SUIT--PROSPERITY OF THE MUSEUM--VISIT OF THE PRINCE OF WALES.

The famous old American Museum was now the centre of Barnum's interests, and he devoted himself to its development with such energy as never before. His enterprise in securing new curiosities, and his skill in presenting them to the public in the most attractive light, surpa.s.sed all previous efforts. To his office, as to their Mecca, flocked all the "freaks" of the land, and all who possessed any objects of rare or marvelous nature.

Foremost among these visitors was one veteran frontiersman, who had attained--and well deserved--much fame as a fighter of the most savage wild beasts. His name was James C. Adams, but he was universally known as "Grizzly Adams," from the fact that he had captured a great many grizzly bears at the risk and cost of fearful encounters and perils. He was brave, and with his bravery there was enough of the romantic in his nature to make him a real hero. For many years a hunter and trapper in the Rocky and Sierra Nevada Mountains, he acquired a recklessness, which, added to his natural invincible courage, rendered him one of the most striking men of the age, and he was emphatically a man of pluck. A month after Barnum had re-purchased the Museum, Adams arrived in New York with his famous collection of California animals, captured by himself, consisting of twenty or thirty immense grizzly bears, at the head of which stood "Old Samson," together with several wolves, half a dozen different species of California bears, California lions, tigers, buffalo, elk, and "Old Neptune," the great sea-lion from the Pacific.

Old Adams had trained all these monsters so that with him they were as docile as kittens, though many of the most ferocious among them would attack a stranger without hesitation, if he came within their grasp. In fact, the training of these animals was no fool's play, as Old Adams learned to his cost, for the terrific blows which he received from time to time, while teaching them "docility," finally cost him his life.

Adams called on Barnum immediately on his arrival in New York. He was dressed in his hunter's suit of buckskin, trimmed with the skins and bordered with the hanging tails of small Rocky Mountain animals; his cap consisting of the skin of a wolf's head and shoulders, from which depended several tails, and under which appeared his stiff bushy, gray hair and his long, white, grizzly beard; in fact, Old Adams was quite as much of a show as his beasts. They had come around Cape Horn on the clipper ship "Golden Fleece," and a sea voyage of three and a half months had probably not added much to the beauty or neat appearance of the old bear-hunter. During their conversation Grizzly Adams took off his cap, and showed Barnum the top of his head. His skull was literally broken in. It had, on various occasions, been struck by the fearful paws of his grizzly students; and the last blow, from the bear called "General Fremont," had laid open his brain so that its workings were plainly visible. Barnum remarked that he thought it was a dangerous wound and might possibly prove fatal.

"Yes," replied Adams, "that will fix me out. It had nearly healed; but old Fremont opened it for me, for the third or fourth time, before I left California, and he did his business so thoroughly, I'm a used-up man. However, I reckon I may live six months or a year yet." This was spoken as coolly as if he had been talking about the life of a dog.

This extraordinary man had come to see Barnum about the "California Menagerie," of which he, Adams, was the owner. Barnum had shortly before, however, purchased one-half interest in it from a man who had claimed to be Adams's equal partner. This Adams disputed, declaring that he had merely borrowed from the man some money on the security of the show, that the man was not his partner, and that he had no right to sell one-half or any portion of the menagerie. As a matter of fact, however, the man did have a bill of sale for one-half of the show, and Adams was soon convinced that Barnum's purchase was entirely legitimate.

The result was that Barnum and Adams formed a regular partnership, the former to attend to all business affairs, the latter to exhibit the animals. The show was opened in a huge canvas tent on Broadway, at the corner of Thirteenth Street.

On the morning of opening, a band of music preceded a procession of animal cages down Broadway and up the Bowery, old Adams, dressed in his hunting costume, heading the line, with a platform wagon on which were placed three immense grizzly bears, two of which he held by chains, while he was mounted on the back of the largest grizzly, which stood in the centre and was not secured in any manner whatever. This was the bear known as "General Fremont," and so docile had he become that Adams said he had used him as a pack-bear, to carry his cooking and hunting apparatus through the mountains for six months, and had ridden him hundreds of miles. But apparently docile as were many of these animals, there was not one among them that would not occasionally give Adams a sly blow or a sly bite when a good chance offered; hence old Adams was but a wreck of his former self, and expressed pretty nearly the truth when he said:

"Mr. Barnum, I am not the man I was five years ago. Then I felt able to stand the hug of any grizzly living, and was always glad to encounter, single handed, any sort of an animal that dared present himself. But I have been beaten to a jelly, torn almost limb from limb, and nearly chawed up and spit out by these treacherous grizzly bears. However, I am good for a few months yet, and by that time I hope we shall gain enough to make my old woman comfortable, for I have been absent from her some years."

His wife came from Ma.s.sachusetts to New York and nursed him. Dr.

Johns dressed his wounds every day, and not only told Adams he could never recover, but a.s.sured his friends that probably a very few weeks would lay him in his grave. But Adams was as firm as adamant and as resolute as a lion. Among the thousands who saw him dressed in his grotesque hunter's suit, and witnessed the seeming vigor with which he "performed" the savage monsters, beating and whipping them into apparently the most perfect docility, probably not one suspected that this rough, fierce-looking, powerful semi-savage, as he appeared to be, was suffering intense pain from his broken skull and fevered system, and that nothing kept him from stretching himself on his death-bed but his most indomitable and extraordinary will.

Adams was an inveterate story-teller, and often "drew the long bow" with daring hand. He loved to astonish people with extraordinary tales, which were sheer inventions, but which no one could disprove. He pretended, too, to have been everywhere and to have seen everything. This weakness made him good game for Barnum, who determined to expose his foibles to him at the first opportunity. The opportunity soon came. One day, amid the innumerable caravan of cranks that moved to the weird realm of Barnum's wonder-house, there appeared a fat, stolid German, carrying in his hand a small basket, which he guarded with jealous care.

"I have come," he said, "to see if you would not like some golden pigeons to buy?"

"Yes," Barnum replied, "I would like a flock of golden pigeons, if I could buy them for their weight in silver; for there are no 'golden pigeons' in existence, unless they are made from the pure metal."

"You shall some golden pigeons alive see," he replied, at the same time entering the office, and closing the door after him. He then removed the lid from the basket, and sure enough, there were snugly ensconced a pair of beautiful, living ruff-necked pigeons, as yellow as saffron, and as bright as a double-eagle fresh from the Mint.

Barnum was somewhat staggered at this sight, and quickly asked the man where those birds came from. A dull, lazy smile crawled over the sober face of the German visitor, as he replied in a slow, guttural tone of voice:

"What you think yourself?"

Catching his meaning, Barnum quickly replied:

"I think it is a humbug."

"Of course, I know you will so say; because you 'forstha' such things; so I shall not try to humbug you; I have them myself colored."

It then came out that the man was a chemist, and that he had invented a process by which he could dye the feathers of living birds any color he pleased, retaining at the same time all the natural gloss of the plumage. Barnum at once closed a bargain with him for the birds, for ten dollars, and then put them in his "Happy Family" at the Museum. He marked them "Golden Pigeons, from California," and then gleefully awaited Adams' next visit, feeling sure that the old fellow would be completely taken in.

Sure enough, next morning Adams came along, saw the pigeons, looked at them earnestly for a few minutes, and then went straight to the office.

"Mr. Barnum," said he, "you must let me have those California pigeons."

"I can't spare them," said Barnum.