Life of Hon. Phineas T. Barnum

by The Life Of The Honorable Phineas T Barnum [Rtf]

  "Crofut responded immediately with an oath, that he did not care a d----n for the Connecticut blue laws.

  " 'That will make two dollars,' said Mr. Seelye.

  "This brought forth another oath.

  " 'Three dollars,' said the sturdy justice.

  "Nothing but oaths were given in reply, until Esquire Seelye declared the damage to the Connecticut laws to amount to fifteen dollars.

  "Crofut took out a twenty-dollar bill and handed it to the justice of the peace, with an oath.

  " 'Sixteen dollars,' said Mr. Seelye, counting out four dollars to hand to Mr. Crofut as his change.

  " 'Oh, keep it, keep it,' said Crofut, 'I don't want any change; I'll d----n soon swear out the balance.' He did so, after which he was more circumspect in his conversation, remarking that twenty dollars a day for swearing was about as much as he could stand."

  About this time Barnum appeared, on at least one occasion, in the role of lawyer. A man charged with assault and battery was brought before the justice of the peace, Barnum's grandfather, for trial. A medical student, Newton by name, had volunteered to defend the prisoner, and Mr. Couch, the grand juryman, in irony, offered Phineas a dollar to represent the State. The court was crowded. The guilt of the prisoner was established beyond a doubt, but Newton, undaunted, rose to make his speech. It consisted of a flood of invective against the grand juryman, Couch; the court listened for five minutes, and then interrupted a magnificent burst of eloquence by informing the speaker that Mr. Couch was not the plaintiff in the case at all.

  "Not the plaintiff!" stammered Newton; "well, then, your honor, who is?"

  "The State of Connecticut," was the answer.

  The young man dropped into his seat, speechless, and the prosecuting attorney arose and in an elaborate speech declared the guilt of the prisoner shown beyond question, adding that he was astonished that both the prisoner and his counsel had not pleaded guilty at once. In the midst of his soarings the grandfather interrupted with--"Young man, will you have the kindness to inform the court which side you represent--the plaintiff or the defendant?"

  The orator stared helplessly at the justice for a moment, and then sat down. Amid peals of laughter from the spectators the prisoner was bound over to the county court for trial.

  But Phineas did not often come out so ingloriously in encounters with his grandfather. The old gentleman was always ready to lend his grandson any of his turnouts except one, and this one Phineas especially desired one day for a sleighing party, in which he was to escort the fair Charity Hallett. So he boldly went to the grandfather and asked if he might take Arabian and the new sleigh.

  "Oh, yes," said the old man, jokingly, "if you have twenty dollars in your pocket."

  "Really?"

  "Yes, really."

  Whereupon Phineas showed the money, and putting it back in his pocket, remarked, "You see; I am much obliged for the sleigh."

  Of course, the grandfather had meant to ask an impossible price for the horse and sleigh; but being caught up so suddenly, there was nothing to do but to consent, and Phineas and "Chairy" had the finest turnout of the party.

  There was a young fellow in the town, Jack Mallett, whose education was rather deficient, and who had been somewhat unsuccessfully paying his addresses to a fair but hard-hearted maiden, named Lucretia. One Sunday evening she cruelly refused to accept his escort after church, and added insult to injury by walking off before his very eyes with another man. Accordingly, he determined to write her a letter of remonstrance, and enlisted the aid of Phineas and another young blade known as "Bill" Shepherd. The joint effort of the three resulted in the following:

  "BETHEL,----, 18--.

  "MISS LUCRETIA: I write this to ask an explanation of your conduct in giving me the mitten on Sunday night last. If you think, madam, that you can trifle with my affections, and turn me off for every little whipper-snapper that you can pick up, you will find yourself considerably mistaken. [We read thus far to Mallett, and it met his approval. He said he liked the idea of calling her "madam," for he thought it sounded so "distant," it would hurt her feelings very much. The term "little whipper-snapper" also delighted him. He said he guessed that would make her feel cheap. Shepherd and myself were not quite so sure of its aptitude, since the chap who succeeded in capturing Lucretia, on the occasion alluded to, was a head and shoulders taller than Mallett. However, we did not intimate our thoughts to Mallett, and he desired us to "go ahead and give her another dose."] You don't know me, madam, if you think you can snap me up in this way. I wish you to understand that I can have the company of girls as much above you as the sun is above the earth, and I won't stand any of your impudent nonsense no how. [This was duly read and approved. "Now," said Mallett, "try to touch her feelings. Remind her of the pleasant hours we have spent together;" and we continued as follows:] My dear Lucretia, when I think of the many pleasant hours we have spent together--of the delightful walks which we have had on moonlight evenings to Fenner's Rocks, Chestnut Ridge, Grassy Plain, Wild Cat and Puppy Town--of the strolls which we have taken upon Shelter Rocks, Cedar Hill--the visits we have made to Old Lane, Wolfpits, Toad Hole and Plum Trees[1]--when all these things come rushing on my mind, and when; my dear girl, I remember how often you have told me that you loved me better than anybody else, and I assured you that my feelings were the same as yours, it almost breaks my heart to think of last Sunday night. ["Can't you stick in some affecting poetry here?" said Mallett. Shepherd could not recollect any to the point, nor could I; but as the exigency of the case seemed to require it, we concluded to manufacture a verse or two, which we did, as follows:]

  [1] These were the euphonious names of localities in the vicinity of Bethel.

  Lucretia, dear, what have I done, That you should use me thus and so, To take the arm of Tom Beers' son, And let your dearest true love go?

  Miserable fate, to lose you now, And tear this bleeding heart asunder! Will you forget your tender vow? I can't believe it--no, by thunder.

  [Mallett did not like the word "thunder," but being informed that no other word could be substituted without destroying both rhyme and reason, he consented that it should remain, provided we added two more stanzas of a softer nature; something, he said, that would make the tears come, if possible, We then ground out the following:]

  Lucretia, dear, do write to Jack, And say with Beers you are not smitten; And thus to me in love come back, And give all other boys the mitten.

  Do this, Lucretia, and till death I'll love you to intense distraction; I'll spend for you my every breath, And we will live in satisfaction.

  ["That will do very well," said Mallett. "Now I guess you had better blow her up a little more." We obeyed orders as follows:] It makes me mad to think what a fool I was to give you that finger-ring and bosom-pin, and spend so much time in your company, just to be flirted and bamboozled as I was on Sunday night last. If you continue this course of conduct, we part forever, and I will thank you to send back that jewelry. I would sooner see it crushed under my feet than worn by a person who abused me as you have done. I shall despise you forever if you don't change your conduct towards me, and send me a letter of apology on Monday next. I shall not go to meeting to-morrow, for I would scorn to sit in the same meeting-house with you until I have an explanation of your conduct. If you allow any young man to go home with you to-morrow night, I shall know it, for you will be watched, ["There," said Mallett, "that is pretty strong. Now, I guess, you had better touch her feelings once more, and wind up the letter." We proceeded as follows:] My sweet girl, if you only knew the sleepless nights which I have spent during the present week, the torments and sufferings which I endure on your account; if you could but realize that I regard the world as less than nothing without you, I am certain you would pity me. A homely cot and a crust of bread with my adorable Lucretia would be a paradise, where a palace without you would be a hades. ["What in thunder is hades?" inquired Jack. We explained. He considered the figure rather bold, and requested u
s to close as soon as possible.] Now, dearest, in bidding you adieu, I implore you to reflect on our past enjoyments, look forward with pleasure to our future happy meetings, and rely upon your affectionate Jack in storm or calm, in sickness, distress or want, for all these will be powerless to change my love. I hope to hear from you on Monday next, and, if favorable, I shall be happy to call on you the same evening, when in ecstatic joy we will laugh at the past, hope for the future, and draw consolation from the fact that "the course of true love never did run smooth." This from your disconsolate but still hoping lover and admirer, "JACK MALLETT.

  "P. S.--On reflection I have concluded to go to meeting to-morrow. If all is well, hold your pocket-handkerchief in your left hand as you stand up to sing with the choir--in which case I shall expect the pleasure of giving you my arm to-morrow night. "J. M."

  The effect of this letter upon Lucretia was not as favorable as could have been desired. She declined to remove her handkerchief from her right hand, and she returned the "ring and bosom-pin" to her disconsolate admirer, while, not many months after, Mallett's rival led Lucretia to the altar. As for Mallett's agreement to pay Shepherd and Barnum five pounds of carpet-rags and twelve yards of broadcloth "lists" for their services, owing to his ill success, they compromised for one-half the amount.

  CHAPTER IV. TRYING MANY VENTURES.

  VISIT TO PITTSBURG--SUCCESSFUL LOTTERY BUSINESS--MARRIAGE--FIRST EDITORIAL VENTURE--LIBEL SUIT, IMPRISONMENT AND LIBERATION--REMOVAL TO NEW YORK--HARD TIMES--KEEPING A BOARDING-HOUSE.

  About this time Barnum, with a Mr. Samuel Sherwood, of Bridgeport, started for Pittsburg, where they proposed to open a lottery office. On reaching New York, however, and talking over the scheme with friends, the venture was abandoned and the two men took, instead, a pleasure trip to Philadelphia. They stayed a week, at the end of which time they returned to New York, with exactly twenty-seven cents between them. Sherwood managed to borrow two dollars--enough to take him to Newark, where he had a cousin, who obligingly loaned him fifty dollars. The two friends remained in New York on the strength of their newly acquired wealth for several days, and then went home considerably richer in experience at least.

  Barnum now went into the lottery business exclusively, taking his uncle, Alanson Taylor, into partnership. They established a number of agencies throughout the country, and made good profits from the sale of tickets. Several of the tickets sold by them took prizes and their office came to be considered "lucky."

  The young man was prospering also in another direction. The fair tailoress smiled on him as sweetly as ever, and in the summer of 1827 they became formally engaged. In the fall Miss Hallett went "on a visit" to her uncle, Nathan Beers, in New York. A month later her lover followed, "to buy goods," and on the 8th of November, 1829, there was a wedding in the comfortable house at No. 3 Allen street. Having married at the age of nineteen, Barnum always expressed his disapproval of early marriages, although his own was a very happy one.

  Returning to Bethel, Mr. and Mrs. Barnum, after boarding for a few months, moved into their own house, which was built on a three acre plat purchased from the grandfather.

  The lottery business still prospered, but it was mostly in the hands of agents, in Danbury, Norwalk, Stamford and Middletown, and Barnum began to look around for some field for his individual energies. He tried travelling as a book auctioneer, but found it uncongenial and quit the business. In July, 1831, with his uncle Alanson Taylor, he opened a grocery and general store, but the venture was not particularly successful, and in the fall the partnership was dissolved, Barnum buying his uncle's interest.

  The next enterprise was an important one, it being the real beginning of Phineas T. Barnum's public career.

  In a period of strong political excitement, he wrote several communications for the Danbury weekly paper, setting forth what he conceived to be the dangers of a sectarian interference which was then apparent in political affairs. The publication of these communications was refused, and he accordingly purchased a press and types, and October 19, 1831, issued the first number of his own paper, The Herald of Freedom.

  "I entered upon the editorship of this journal," says Mr. Barnum, "with all the vigor and vehemence of youth. The boldness with which the paper was conducted soon excited widespread attention and commanded a circulation which extended beyond the immediate locality into nearly every State in the Union. But lacking that experience which induces caution, and without the dread of consequences, I frequently laid myself open to the charge of libel, and three times in three years I was prosecuted. A Danbury butcher, a zealous politician, brought a civil suit against me for accusing him of being a spy in a Democratic caucus. On the first trial the jury did not agree, but after a second trial I was fined several hundred dollars. Another libel suit against me was withdrawn. The third was sufficiently important to warrant the following detail:

  "A criminal prosecution was brought against me for stating in my paper that a man in Bethel, prominent in church, had 'been guilty of taking USURY of an orphan boy,' and for severely commenting on the fact in my editorial columns. When the case came to trial the truth of my statement was substantially proved by several witnesses and even by the prosecuting party. But 'the greater the truth, the greater the libel,' and then I had used the term 'usury,' instead of extortion, or note-shaving, or some other expression which might have softened the verdict. The result was that I was sentenced to pay a fine of one hundred dollars and to be imprisoned in the common jail for sixty days.

  "The most comfortable provision was made for me in Danbury jail. My room was papered and carpeted; I lived well; I was overwhelmed with the constant visits of my friends; I edited my paper as usual and received large accessions to my subscription list; and at the end of my sixty days' term the event was celebrated by a large concourse of people from the surrounding country. The court room in which I was convicted was the scene of the celebration. An ode, written for the occasion, was sung; an eloquent oration on the freedom of the press was delivered; and several hundred gentlemen afterwards partook of a sumptuous dinner followed by appropriate toasts and speeches. Then came the triumphant part of the ceremonial, which was reported in my paper of December 12, 1832, as follows:

  " 'P. T. Barnum and the band of music took their seats in a coach drawn by six horses, which had been prepared for the occasion. The coach was preceded by forty horsemen, and a marshal, bearing the national standard. Immediately in the rear of the coach was the carriage of the orator and the President of the day, followed by the committee of arrangements and sixty carriages of citizens, which joined in escorting the editor to his home in Bethel.

  " 'When the procession commenced its march amidst the roar of cannon, three cheers were given by several hundred citizens who did not join in the procession. The band of music continued to play a variety of national airs until their arrival in Bethel (a distance of three miles), when they struck up the beautiful and appropriate tune of "Home, Sweet Home!" After giving three hearty cheers, the procession returned to Danbury. The utmost harmony and unanimity of feeling prevailed throughout the day, and we are happy to add that no accident occured to mar the festivities of the occasion.' "

  The editorial career continued as it had begun. In 1830 The Herald of Freedom was sold to Mr. George Taylor.

  The mercantile business was also sold to Horace Fairchild, who had been associated with it as partner since 1831, and a Mr. Toucey, who formed a partnership under the name of Fairchild & Co. Barnum had lost considerable money in this store; he was too speculative for ordinary trade, too ready, also to give credit, and his ledger was full of unpaid accounts when he finally gave up business.

  In 1835 he removed his family to New York, taking a house in Hudson street. For a time he tried to get a position in a mercantile house, not on a fixed salary, but so as to derive a commission on his sales, trusting to his ability to make more money in this way than an ordinary clerk could be expected to receive. Failing in this he acted as a "drummer" for se
veral stores until spring, when he was fortunate enough to receive several hundred dollars from his agent at Bethel. In May he opened a private boarding-house at 52 Frankfort street, which was well patronized by his Connecticut acquaintances as often as they visited the metropolis. This business not occupying his entire time, he bought an interest in a grocery store at 156 South street.

  Although the years of manhood brought cares, anxieties, and struggles for a livelihood, they did not change Barnum's nature, and the jocose element was still an essential ingredient of his being. He loved fun, practical fun, for itself and for the enjoyment which it brought. During the year he occasionally visited Bridgeport, where he almost always found at the hotel a noted joker, named Darrow, who spared neither friend nor foe in his tricks. He was the life of the bar-room, and would always try to entrap some stranger in a bet and so win a treat for the company. He made several ineffectual attempts upon Barnum, and at last, one evening, Darrow, who stuttered, made a final trial, as follows:

  "Come, Barnum, I'll make you another proposition; I'll bet you hadn't got a whole shirt on your back." The catch consists in the fact that generally only one-half of that convenient garment is on the back; but Barnum had anticipated the proposition --in fact he had induced a friend, Mr. Hough, to put Darrow up to the trick--and had folded a shirt nicely upon his back, securing it there with his suspenders. The bar-room was crowded with customers who thought that if Barnum made the bet he would be nicely caught, and he made presence of playing off and at the same time stimulated Darrow to press the bet by saying: