TRAVELS WITH A MIDGET
I
After a long and stormy passage of nineteen days, during which Barnum
entertained the passengers with choice samples of practical jokes, the
packet _Yorkshire_ arrived at Liverpool. A crowd was waiting on the
docks to look at General Tom Thumb, for it had been announced that
he would arrive on the _Yorkshire_, and the fame of his popularity
in America had spread to England even before Barnum had decided on
the venture abroad. But Mrs. Stratton managed to smuggle her little
treasure ashore without attracting notice.
For the first time in his life as a showman, except in the early
days of his struggle for opportunities, Barnum was deeply depressed
at his prospects. After he had been in Liverpool only a few days,
disheartening and panicky sensations overcame his natural exuberance.
He was among strangers, and he was homesick; everything appeared
different, and the foreign atmosphere took on the shape of a ghostly
hostility in Barnum’s mind. He tells us that as the boat was leaving
the dock in New York, he was in “the melting mood,” and soon after
his arrival in Liverpool this thirty-three-year-old showman, whose
reputation for bold enterprise had already spread throughout a large
part of the United States, sat down in his dismal hotel room and had
a good cry. The cause of this dejection was doubt of his ability to
succeed in different surroundings, and regret that he had so hastily
made the attempt. These in turn were caused by several encounters and
predictions of his first days in England. The proprietor of a Liverpool
waxworks called at the hotel; he had heard of the arrival of General
Tom Thumb, and he was anxious to add this unique curiosity to his
collection of waxworks at ten dollars per week for both the curiosity
and the manager. Soon afterwards Madame Céleste, who was performing
at the Theater Royal in Williamson Square, presented her compliments
to Mr. Barnum and invited him to use her private box. In the box
adjoining were a dignified lady and gentleman, who looked with approval
at General Tom Thumb, partly hidden from the audience by his tutor’s
cloak. They became interested in the General as soon as they learned
who he was and urged Barnum to exhibit him in Manchester, where they
lived. Barnum asked how much they thought he could charge for admission
in Manchester, and the lady answered that since the General was such
a decided curiosity, she thought twopence for each person would not
be too much. But her husband cried nonsense, remarked that women knew
nothing of such things, and assured Barnum that one penny was the usual
price for seeing giants and dwarfs in England, and that the public
would never pay more. It was this conversation more than anything
else that caused Barnum to wish he were in New York, where admission
was twenty-five cents, children half-price, and he swore solemnly to
himself that General Tom Thumb should never be seen for less than a
shilling a head.
It had been Barnum’s plan to proceed at once to London, but he
learned that the royal family was in mourning because of the death
of Prince Albert’s father, and he had made up his mind before he had
been in England one week to present General Tom Thumb at Buckingham
Palace, which, he naïvely admits, he intended to appropriate as his
headquarters. Meanwhile, he presented his letters of introduction in
Liverpool, and was induced by friends to hire a hall and give a few
exhibitions. Mr. Maddox, of the Princess’s Theater, London, visited
Liverpool incognito with the special purpose of sizing up Tom Thumb and
possibly proposing an engagement to Barnum. An arrangement was made for
three appearances at the Princess’s Theater, for Barnum was unwilling
to contract with another showman for any long engagement, and he
consented to the exhibition at the Princess’s only for the purposes of
advertisement.
To his first three performances in London General Tom Thumb attracted
large crowds, and Barnum once more felt sanguine. He declined an
offer for a reëngagement and prepared to exploit his prodigy on a
grand scale. He hired Lord Talbot’s mansion in Grafton Street, where
Lord Brougham was one of his neighbors, and from this house he sent
invitations to the nobility and the editors to visit General Tom Thumb.
They came in large numbers and told their friends about the General.
The friends, who were not invited, also came in large numbers, and were
turned away by the butler. Barnum was in England, and he planned to do
what no English showman would have dared to do: he treated himself,
unobtrusively, as an equal of every one from the Queen to the coster.
But he also catered to their opinions of themselves. He realized that
he must maintain a dignity, if he was to receive upper-class patronage,
and he instructed the servants to admit no one to the private at-homes
of General Tom Thumb without a ticket of invitation. But he was
always careful to send invitations the next day to all those who had
not been admitted. The premonitions of failure which he had suffered
in Liverpool made Barnum certain that the only way to establish Tom
Thumb financially in England was to make him the darling of fashion;
the common people could be trusted to follow in the tracks of their
betters. And Barnum knew also that the one road to sure success lay in
the direction of approval by Her Majesty the Queen. He therefore turned
all his persistent and cunning attention towards this consummation.
Since the Court was in mourning, it was extremely doubtful that he
could be received, but as it was not impossible, Barnum refused to
relinquish the hope. Horace Greeley, one of Barnum’s best friends and
an adviser to whom he always listened attentively, had given him a
letter of introduction to Edward Everett, American Minister to the
Court of St. James’s, and Barnum admitted that “to that letter, perhaps
more than to anything else, I was indebted for my first introduction
to Her Majesty.” It was fortunate for Barnum that he had such a letter
of introduction, if we are to take the word of a keen observer of
the times on the personality of Edward Everett. Maunsell B. Field,
whose book, _Memories of Many Men and Some Women_, is one of the most
interesting American books of reminiscences, visited Edward Everett
at the American Ministry about the same time as Barnum. Field was
then a young man traveling for his education; later he became one of
New York’s eminent lawyers and the partner of John Jay, but Edward
Everett could not be expected to foresee that. “I found Mr. Everett,”
Field wrote, “as frigid as an iceberg. He was as polished as his own
writings, but equally cold. To a young man just out of college, this
sort of reception operated like a wet blanket. After my first call,
I never ventured upon him again. I feared taking cold.” But Everett
was quite different with Barnum. During his first week in London the
American Minister called and was delighted with General Tom Thumb. They
dined with the Minister next day, and the Everett family gave Tom Thumb
many presents. Mr. Everett promised to use all his influence at the
Palace to insure a presentation before Queen Victoria.
Meanwhile, the Baroness Rothschild sent her carriage for General Tom
Thumb and his guardian. Barnum and his tiny ward passed a cordon
of liveried servants and walked into a brilliant hall, lined with
statuary. They ascended a flight of magnificent marble stairs and were
announced by an elegant servant. The Baroness was seated on a “gorgeous
couch,” and lords and ladies everywhere were sitting on gold chairs
that looked to Barnum like solid gold, “except the bottoms, which were
rich velvet.” Ebony, pearl, and gold dazzled Barnum’s eyes wherever
he looked, and when they were about to leave after a session of two
hours, a fat purse was quietly slipped into Barnum’s hand. That, too,
contained gold. Other receptions at the homes of other bankers and
members of the nobility followed, and they invariably ended with some
one slipping a fat purse into Barnum’s hand.
Barnum thought that the time had now come for a public exhibition. It
was true that he had not yet seen the Queen, or, rather, the Queen
had not yet seen him and his child wonder; but he must not wait
longer and lose the shillings per head that were ripe and ready to
drop into his purse. There was also danger that the _haut ton_ would
monopolize General Tom Thumb, and the shillings of the multitude were
more valuable in Barnum’s eyes than the generous admiration of lords
and ladies of fashion. He engaged Egyptian Hall in Piccadilly, and the
élite flocked to the exhibitions, followed by enough of the common
people to pay large profits.
One morning at breakfast at the house of Edward Everett, Barnum met Mr.
Charles Murray, the Master of the Royal Household, who had visited the
United States and written a book about them. Barnum happened to have
read the book, and he assured Murray how much he admired the opinion
of the Master of the Royal Household on the American people. He also
hinted that he intended to take General Tom Thumb over to Paris to see
Louis Philippe. Mr. Murray felt sure that Queen Victoria would want
to see the General before Louis Philippe; and he was correct. Soon
afterwards a handsome member of the Life Guards brought Barnum a note
inviting General Tom Thumb and his guardian, Mr. Barnum, to appear
at Buckingham Palace. Mr. Murray called the same day and told Barnum
that it was Her Majesty’s command that General Tom Thumb should appear
before her as he would appear anywhere else; she did not want him
primed with etiquette, she wished to see him in his natural state.
On the night of the appointment at the Palace, Barnum placed a placard
on the door of Egyptian Hall, reading: “Closed this evening, General
Tom Thumb being at Buckingham Palace by command of Her Majesty.” When
they arrived at the Palace, Barnum was told by a Lord-in-Waiting that
he must answer all questions addressed to him by Her Majesty through
the Lord-in-Waiting, and under no circumstances must the Queen be
addressed directly. He was also told that in leaving the presence of
the Queen he must “back out,” so that the Queen always saw his face;
and the Lord-in-Waiting illustrated his instructions by a few steps in
the proper direction.
Everything was then quite clear, and the party was conducted up a
marble staircase to the Queen’s picture gallery, where Her Majesty,
Prince Albert, the Duchess of Kent, and about twenty of the nobility
were waiting. General Tom Thumb strutted proudly up the long gallery
towards the end of which the royal party was standing, and as soon as
he came within speaking distance, bowed deeply and said in his high
treble voice, “Good evening, Ladies and Gentlemen.” Every one laughed
merrily at the dwarf’s simplicity, but the dwarf did not mean to be
facetious; he thought they _were_ ladies and gentlemen. Queen Victoria
took his hand and led him about the picture gallery, asking him many
questions, and his answers caused her to laugh continually. He informed
the Queen that her picture gallery was “first-rate,” one of his common
expressions of approval, and he expressed a desire to see the Prince
of Wales. But the Queen regretted that the Prince of Wales was in bed,
and invited General Tom Thumb to call again, when he would see him.
The General sang and danced for the company, and after conversations
with Prince Albert and other members of the party, lasting more than
an hour, Barnum and General Tom Thumb made ready to leave the royal
presence.
Barnum had been talking with the Queen while General Tom Thumb was
entertaining Prince Albert. After two or three questions, put through
the Lord-in-Waiting and answered via that official, Barnum began to
feel uncomfortable, and he entered directly into conversation with the
Queen. The Lord-in-Waiting was shocked, but Victoria did not seem
to object, for she immediately entered into direct conversation with
Barnum.
The time for backing out arrived, and Barnum mollified the
Lord-in-Waiting by following carefully his instructions and example.
But General Tom Thumb’s legs were short, and he found his manager and
the Lord-in-Waiting were retreating towards the door more rapidly
than he could step backwards. The General turned and ran a few steps,
then faced again towards the Queen and respectfully bowed and walked
backwards, continuing this method of catching up whenever he found
himself behind in the race for the door. The royal party found these
antics of the little General delightful, and Barnum said that the
spectacle of Tom Thumb’s little feet running through the room and then
solemnly stepping backwards was a performance funnier than any he had
ever seen the General give. Barnum, six feet two in height, and General
Tom Thumb two feet one in height, bowing respectfully as possible under
the circumstances, was assuredly a sight to set before a Queen; the
droll contrast of the dwarf and his manager should have been enough
to make even Prince Albert giggle. The sight was not displeasing to
the Queen, but it was to her poodle-dog, who barked sharply at General
Tom Thumb and made for his legs. The General, frightened out of all
propriety, raised his little cane and attacked the poodle, causing more
merriment than ever. When they finally arrived in the ante-room, an
attendant hurried after them to ask in the name of the Queen whether
the General had been injured.
In another room refreshments were served, but Barnum could not enjoy
them; he was thinking of something else. He asked who edited the
Court Circular and was told that the gentleman happened to be in the
Palace at the time. He was sent for, and Barnum asked if it would be
possible for him to have more than a mere mention of the audience.
The editor was quite willing to give Barnum a favorable notice and
asked him to write out what he wished printed. Barnum did so, and,
much to his delight, his own words were printed the next day in all
the newspapers. The Court Circular said in part: “His personation of
the Emperor Napoleon elicited great mirth, and this was followed by a
representation of the Grecian Statues, after which the General danced a
nautical hornpipe, and sang several of his favorite songs.”
The audience with the Queen, and the newspaper notices of it, caused
such a demand for a sight of General Tom Thumb that Barnum was forced
to engage a larger room in Egyptian Hall. A second visit to the Queen
soon followed, and this time the General was received in the Yellow
Drawing Room, draped entirely in yellow satin damask, with sofas and
chairs of the same material, “surpassing in splendor and gorgeousness
anything of the kind” Barnum had ever seen. As Barnum and General
Tom Thumb entered the room, the Queen and her suite were leaving the
dining-room. The General remarked familiarly that he had seen her
before, and praised the Yellow Drawing Room enthusiastically. “I think
this is a prettier room than the picture gallery; that chandelier is
very fine,” he said.
He was introduced by the Queen to the Prince of Wales. They shook
hands cordially, and General Tom Thumb measured his height against
that of the Prince, remarking, “The Prince is taller than I am, but
I _feel_ as big as anybody.” Then he strutted up and down the room
in mock pride, to the delight of the audience. The Queen introduced
the Princess Royal, and Tom Thumb led her immediately to a sofa built
for his size, which Barnum had brought along, and chatted familiarly
with her tête-à-tête. The Queen then handed the General a souvenir
made expressly for him, an elegant ornament of mother-of-pearl set in
emeralds and enameled with the General’s coat of arms, although what
that was would be interesting to discover, for Barnum advertised Tom
Thumb as the son of a carpenter. General Tom Thumb told the Queen that
he was very much obliged and would keep her souvenir as long as he
lived. The Queen of the Belgians was present at this second visit, and
on a third visit to Buckingham Palace which they paid soon afterwards,
King Leopold was also present.
It was on this third visit that General Tom Thumb noticed a Shetland
pony, belonging to the Queen, outside the Palace. It was just suited to
Tom Thumb’s size, and he coveted it. When they came before the Queen,
she asked the General to sing his favorite song, and he sang “Yankee
Doodle,” causing much merriment by his controversial choice. But the
General was not thinking of the Revolutionary War; he was thinking of
the pony, which he dared not ask for. While singing “Yankee Doodle” to
the Queen, he pointed his finger significantly at her when he came to
the line, “Yankee Doodle, Yankee Doodle, riding on a pony,” but the
Queen either did not take the hint, or did not understand it, and the
General had to be content with the gold pencil case which he received
on this occasion. After every visit at Buckingham Palace, a large sum
of money was sent to Barnum by command of the Queen.
Since Queen Victoria had received General Tom Thumb three times, it
was almost an act of disloyalty for any of her subjects in London
to neglect to visit him. At a country fair Barnum heard the English
proprietor of a small collection of waxworks, whose articles of trade
were beginning to turn yellow with neglect, say to some of his fellow
craftsmen: “Tom Thumb has got the name, and you all know the name’s
everything. Tom Thumb couldn’t never shine, even in my van, ’long
side of a dozen dwarfs I knows, if this Yankee hadn’t bamboozled our
Queen--Gawd bless her--by getting him afore her half a dozen times.”
“Yes, yes--that’s the ticket,” another agreed, “our Queen patronizes
everything _foreign_, and yet she wouldn’t visit my beautiful
waxworks to save the crown of _H_ingland.” This recommendation of his
publicity skill must have pleased Barnum, but his lowly rivals were
not accurate, for, as much as General Tom Thumb owed his success to
Barnum, the manager had good raw material with which to work; it was
General Tom Thumb’s pert and whimsical charm that won the Queen after
Barnum gained the audience. Her subjects were equally enthusiastic, and
the receipts from March until July of 1844 for the public exhibitions
averaged more than $500 each day. Carriages lined up outside Egyptian
Hall as if for a command performance at the opera, and portraits of
the General appeared in all the illustrated newspapers. The Duke of
Wellington called frequently at Egyptian Hall, and on one occasion
the Duke was delighted with the General’s costume and imitation of
Napoleon. When Wellington asked the miniature Napoleon on what he
was pondering so deeply, Tom Thumb, retaining his sober expression,
said that he was thinking of the loss of the Battle of Waterloo. This
obvious display of wit delighted the Duke and was published all over
England, thereby increasing Barnum’s receipts.
Besides their public exhibitions Barnum and his midget visited the
houses of the nobility three or four nights each week and gave private
exhibitions at ten guineas each. They often visited two parties in an
evening. The Dowager Queen, Adelaide, invited General Tom Thumb to
Marlborough House and gave him a watch and chain made for his size;
she also gave him moral advice, which he promised to observe carefully
when he grew up. The Duke of Devonshire presented him with a gold and
turquoise snuff-box.
While Barnum and General Tom Thumb were in London, the Emperor of
Russia visited Queen Victoria, and the two popular Americans were
present at the grand review of British troops held by the Duke of
Wellington in honor of the Emperor Nicholas. They also visited the King
of Saxony and Ibrahim Pasha, who were guests in London. Sir Robert
and Lady Peel, the Dukes and Duchesses of Buckingham, Bedford, and
Devonshire, Count D’Orsay, Daniel O’Connell, Lord Chesterfield, and
Mr. Joshua Bates, of Baring Brothers, were especial friends of General
Tom Thumb. He and Barnum enjoyed the freedom of all the theaters and
public places of entertainment, as well as the hospitality of private
residences. But Barnum never neglected the larger rewards from the
populace in favor of the perquisites of the nobility and royalty. The
General appeared at the Lyceum Theater in a play written for him by
Albert Smith, called “Hop o’ My Thumb.” Songs were sung in London music
halls in honor of Tom Thumb, music was dedicated to him, and polkas
were named after him.
In the management of this English engagement Barnum proved himself a
perfect showman, readily adaptable to changed conditions. He believed
that when in London he must do as the toffs did, if he was afterwards
to attract the crowds who believed in the nobility of their constituted
betters. A method that would have earned him an injurious reputation
as a snob in this country caused the London aristocracy to storm his
mansion and the mass of the people to crowd Egyptian Hall. After a
tour of the provinces that was as successful as the London engagement,
preparations were made for General Tom Thumb’s appearance in Paris.
II
Barnum had preceded Tom Thumb to Paris, where he met Dion Boucicault,
who was living there at the time. Boucicault gave Barnum much valuable
advice and spent a day with him looking for a suitable exhibition hall.
They finally selected the Salle Musard in the Rue Vivienne as the
General’s French headquarters. Barnum issued preliminary paragraphs
in the newspapers concerning “Le Général Tom Pouce” and returned to
London to get the littlest star. Before his departure from Paris he
called upon William Rufus King, American Minister at the Court of
France, who assured him that after his success with Queen Victoria
there would be no difficulty with Louis Philippe, the affable King,
who was distinguished by his green umbrella when he walked unattended
through the streets of Paris. Barnum returned to Paris with his entire
party and the day after his arrival received a command to appear at the
Tuileries on the following Sunday evening. When they arrived at the
Palace, Barnum and General Tom Thumb were received by Louis Philippe,
the Queen, and the Princess Adelaide, the Duchess d’Orléans and her
son, the Count de Paris, Prince de Joinville, the Duke and Duchess
de Nemours, the Duchess d’Aumale, and the editor of the _Journal des
Débats_, the official journal. After his quaint performances, Louis
Philippe presented Tom Thumb with an emerald and diamond brooch.
The King was so genial that Barnum, who later wrote that he felt quite
at home in the royal presence, decided to ask a favor. The Longchamps
celebration, one of the gala days of fête and display for the new
court and society, was to take place within a few days after Barnum’s
arrival. He asked Louis Philippe if General Tom Thumb’s carriage might
appear in the avenue reserved for the court and the diplomatic corps,
for he feared that unless this favor was granted the small carriage
with its tiny ponies would be crushed and the General hurt. The King
arranged this small matter with one of his officials and told Barnum
to call upon the Prefect of Police the next day for a permit. Other
members of the court gave General Tom Thumb presents, and after a
visit of two hours the entertainers left. The Queen had asked Tom
Thumb how he spent his spare time. He answered, “I frequently draw and
do it pretty well,” meaning that he drew audiences to his exhibition
halls, but Her Majesty was not accustomed to Yankee puns, and several
days later a mahogany paint box with a silver plate on which were the
General’s initials was sent to him with the compliments of the Queen.
On the day of the Longchamps celebration General Tom Thumb in his
little carriage with four ponies, and a coachman and footman powdered
and in livery, rode up the Champs Elysées with the ambassadors to
the Court of Louis Philippe. The General’s coach had been built in
England. It was twenty inches high and eleven inches wide. The body
was an intense blue and the wheels were blue and red. On the inside
it was richly upholstered. On the doors were the General’s coat of
arms, conferred upon him for the occasion by Barnum: Britannia and the
Goddess of Liberty, supported by the British lion and the American
eagle. The crest was the rising sun and the British and American
flags. Underneath was the motto, “Go Ahead!” The same crest was on the
body of the coach and on the harness. The coachman’s box was of red
velvet, embroidered with a silver star and flowers of red and green.
The equipage was drawn by Shetland ponies, and two small boys acted
as coachman and footman. These equerries wore sky-blue coats trimmed
with silver lace, and aiguillettes tipped with silver. Their breeches
were red, with silver buckles and silver garters attached, and they
wore cocked hats and wigs. The footman also carried a cane. The cost of
this imposing advertisement was between three hundred and four hundred
pounds.[5] As this carriage, with the tiny General bowing from right to
left and left to right, proceeded in the line of court equipages along
the Champs Elysées, thousands cheered enthusiastically for “Le Général
Tom Pouce.”
This exclusive advertising swelled the profits at the first public
exhibition. The receipts on the first day were 5,500 francs and were
limited to that amount because no more people could possibly be
accommodated in the large Salle Musard. Performances were given every
afternoon and evening, and seats were reserved two months in advance.
Barnum’s profits were so heavy that, he tells us, he was compelled to
take a cab every night to carry his francs. Tom Pouce became the rage
of Paris, and he attained cosmopolitan fame when at the age of six a
boulevard café was named after him. He was visited and kissed by the
leading actresses of Paris and also by the ladies-in-waiting to the
Queen. Louis Philippe asked for two more audiences with General Tom
Thumb, and he received a special invitation to the King’s birthday
party. On the last visit to the King at St. Cloud, Louis Philippe
asked specially to see the General in his impersonation of Napoleon
Bonaparte. This costume had been carefully kept in the bottom of a
trunk while Barnum was in Paris, but he granted the King’s request, and
the newspapers were careful not to mention the sacrilege to Napoleon’s
memory.
Every member of the royal family bore a gift for General Tom Thumb,
and none of the ladies of the royal household missed an opportunity to
kiss his pink cheeks. A quaint history of General Tom Thumb written for
young children and published at Philadelphia in 1849 made this comment
on the reception at the Court of Louis Philippe: “Other and valuable
presents were heaped upon the little traveler by the royal family. How
the world changes! Louis Philippe has, since that time, been driven
from his throne, and with his wife and children is in England; and it
is very likely that the money which the gifts were worth, which were
given to the little dwarf, would have been many times within the last
year [1848] very acceptable to the dethroned monarch. Tom Thumb is Tom
Thumb still, but Louis Philippe is a king no longer.”
In Paris Barnum picked up a bargain, which pleased him so much that he
mentioned it in all the editions of his autobiography. The effects of
a Russian prince were sold at auction, and Barnum bought among other
things a gold tea-set and a silver dining-service. What delighted him
most, however, was that the initials of the nobleman were engraved on
the plate, and that therefore it was sold for its weight value; and the
initials were “P. T.,” which needed only an addition of “B” to make
them appropriate for Phineas’s and Charity’s table.
After a long engagement in Paris, Barnum and General Tom Thumb visited
with great financial success Rouen, Orléans, Bordeaux, Brest, Toulon,
Montpellier, Nîmes, Marseilles, Nantes, and other cities. Barnum had
turned his acquisition into something of an actor, for throughout
France he appeared in a comedy called “Petit Poucet,” and the revenue
authorities recognized the General’s histrionic ability by classifying
him officially as subject to only the theatrical tax of eleven per
cent. instead of the twenty-five per cent. tax for natural curiosities.
General Tom Thumb visited Spain, where he was received by Queen
Isabella, with whom he attended a bull fight. On his return trip to
France, many European newspapers of the day report, he was held up
by brigands, one of whom mounted the box of the coach and drove off
rapidly with his prize. It was rumored, according to the _Illustrated
London News_ for September 20, 1845, that “a lady, from excess of
fantasy, has eloped with him to the neighborhood of Guilligomach.” The
fact that seemed certain to the _Illustrated London News_ was that
the General had not been seen or heard of since his departure from
the Spanish border. Possibly this was Barnum’s foreign publicity, but
he neglects to say so, and if it were an example of his successful
cunning, he would have mentioned it in his autobiography.
At Brussels Barnum and Tom Thumb spent the day after their arrival at
the palace of King Leopold and the Queen, where they entertained the
children of royalty and distinguished guests. After this engagement
and several exhibitions at other cities in Belgium, Barnum brought his
party back to London, where they appeared again with great success in
Egyptian Hall. The triumphant tours of France and Belgium had increased
General Tom Thumb’s popularity, and the London receipts were larger
than during the first engagement. In October, 1844, Barnum returned
to New York in order to renew the lease of the American Museum and to
bring his wife and daughters back to London. He left General Tom Thumb
under the management of his father, Sherwood Stratton, a shrewd Yankee.
Upon Barnum’s return the party toured England, Scotland, and Ireland.
At Oxford the students of the University came in large numbers and
paid their admission in farthings, forty-eight to the shilling, arguing
that the smallest curiosity should be paid for in the smallest coin,
to the exasperation of Sherwood Stratton, who besides being the father
of General Tom Thumb was also ticket seller at all the exhibitions.
Stratton was often pointed out by Barnum to visitors at the exhibitions
as the normal father of a subnormal celebrity, which caused the father
to become a notoriety himself, for people surrounded him at the box
office and asked many questions about the birth and early life of his
boy. Upon one occasion a dowager said to Stratton, who was Yankee in
habits of speech as well as in character, “Are you really the father
of General Tom Thumb?” “Wa’al, I have to support him,” answered the
ticket-seller.
At the end of the tour of Great Britain Barnum returned to London
again, and General Tom Thumb appeared once more at the Egyptian Hall.
This time he impersonated Cupid with wings and quiver, Samson carrying
away the gates of Gaza, the Grecian Statues, the Fighting Gladiator,
the Slave whetting his knife, Ajax, Discobolus, Cincinnatus, Hercules
with the Nemean Lion, Napoleon, and Frederick the Great.
A few days before Barnum brought Tom Thumb back to the Egyptian Hall,
Benjamin Robert Haydon, the historical painter, had taken another
room in the hall to exhibit his latest painting, “The Banishment of
Aristides,” together with his “Nero Playing His Lyre While Rome Is
Burning.” Haydon depended upon this exhibition to relieve him from
debt. He wrote in his now famous diary, “I fear nothing on earth but
my banker, where I have not five shillings on account, and have a bill
coming due and want help.” Haydon’s two paintings were part of a series
he planned for the decoration of the House of Lords, but Sir Robert
Peel, who was one of his patrons, told Haydon he feared the House would
not accept the works. Haydon was the personal friend of Keats, who sent
him his poems for criticism as he wrote them, and also of Wordsworth,
who sent his sonnets, “piping hot from the brain,” as one of the poet’s
letters expressed it.
When Haydon exhibited at Egyptian Hall, he was sixty years old, and
worried almost to frenzy by the struggles of those years. He trembled
in fear of the debtor’s prison, which he had already experienced
once. His father had been a printer and bookseller, and Haydon had no
means but his art. His independent spirit and lack of patience with
ignorance caused him to upbraid for their stupidity those patrons he
was lucky enough to get. William Michael Rossetti wrote that he was
vain and combative, and _Blackwood’s Magazine_ had nicknamed him “The
Cockney Raphael.” Haydon’s grand conception was a series of historical
paintings to adorn England’s public buildings. He had already painted
“Solomon,” “Jerusalem,” “The Banishment of Aristides with His Wife and
Children,” “Nero Playing His Lyre While Rome Is Burning,” and he was at
work on “Alfred and the First Jury,” when General Tom Thumb moved into
Egyptian Hall. Haydon’s scheme for a series of historical paintings had
been taken up with George IV, but that king was always more interested
in private affairs than in public works.
Haydon had married a widow with children, and although this marriage
added materially to his burdens, his diary is filled with praises of
their loveliness. He wrote in the diary: “I sat all day and looked
into the fire.... A man who has had so many misfortunes as I have had
gets frightened at leaving his family for a day.” On Easter Monday,
1846, he wrote: “O God, bless my receipts this day, for the sake of my
creditors, my family, and my art. Amen.” The receipts that day were
only one pound, two shillings. Later he wrote: “Tom Thumb had 12,000
people last week. B. Haydon, 133½, the ½ a little girl. Exquisite taste
of the English people.” The next entry reads: “They rush by thousands
to see Tom Thumb. They push, they fight, they scream, they faint, they
cry help and murder! and oh! and ah! They see my bills, my boards, my
caravans and don’t read them. Their eyes are open, but their sense is
shut. It is an insanity, a _rabies_, a madness, a _furor_, a dream. I
would not have believed it of the English people.” Haydon’s exhibition
brought in 17 pounds, 13 shillings after Tom Thumb came to Egyptian
Hall, and Tom Thumb took in 600 pounds a day. The deadly contrast,
coupled with his seemingly illimitable woe, caused Haydon to go home in
despair. His diary reads: “Cleared out my exhibition. Next to victory
is a skilful retreat, and I marched out before General Tom Thumb, a
beaten, but not conquered exhibitor.” But he was also conquered, if
not by Tom Thumb, then by circumstances. His wife was going to visit
friends in the country, and he embraced her fervently. An hour later
his daughter walked into the studio and found her father lying on the
floor. There was a deep gash in his throat; a blood-stained razor and
a small pistol, with which he had blown out his brains, lay beside
his body. Above him was the easel with the unfinished “Alfred and the
First Jury.” He had but a few minutes before written in his diary a
will in which he appointed friendly administrators of his debts, and
the journal of his life closed with the harrowing words, “Stretch me no
longer on this rough world.”
Tom Thumb cannot be said to have caused Haydon’s death, he was merely
the last straw. A large conclave followed the body to its grave, and
among the mourners were Wordsworth and Sir Robert Peel.
III
In February of 1847, after having been abroad with General Tom Thumb
for three years, punctuated by two short trips to New York, Barnum
returned to this country. He had renewed the lease of the American
Museum for ten years at a rental of $10,000 a year, and taxes; he also
leased the adjoining buildings and enlarged the Museum and the Lecture
Room. The news of Barnum’s triumphs on the continent as well as the
receptions of the Connecticut Yankee at the Court of Queen Victoria had
been copied by the New York newspapers from the foreign journals, and
after Barnum’s return the Museum was more popular than ever. In Europe
he had kept it constantly in mind, and he made many purchases for the
ever-increasing collection. Models of machinery and duplicates of the
dissolving views which were so popular in London, were shipped to the
Museum.
[Illustration: BARNUM’S AMERICAN MUSEUM
From “Gleason’s Pictorial Drawing Room Companion”
_Westervelt Collection_]
[Illustration: GENERAL TOM THUMB
An engraving made in England during his first appearance, 1844
_Houdini Collection_]
Barnum also made an offer for Shakespeare’s home, which he knew would
never be permitted to leave England, but which he planned to remove in
sections to his Museum, if he could get away with it, for he admitted
to his own mind no impossibility until everything had been tried in
an endeavor. Barnum’s designs became public in London, Englishmen
interfered, and the Shakespeare home was purchased by the Shakespearean
Association. “Had they slept a few days longer,” Barnum wrote of this
project, “I should have made a rare speculation, for I was subsequently
assured that the British people, rather than suffer that house to be
removed to America, would have bought me off with twenty thousand
pounds.”
He made an offer of 500 pounds for a tree on which Lord Byron had
carved his name, and which was then growing on the poet’s English
estate. Colonel Wildman, who had bought Byron’s estate and cherished
it, flew into a military rage of great proportions at the indignity of
Barnum’s offer.
In London Barnum also made complete arrangements for the transfer of
Mme. Tussaud’s famous Waxworks to New York, but after the papers were
drawn up the enterprise was canceled by the English owners. In Paris
Barnum purchased Robert Houdin’s automatic writer, which had won the
gold medal at the Quinquennial Exposition. Barnum visited Robert Houdin
at his home, and was delighted with the mechanical conveniences and
contrivances of the magician’s residence. Instead of a butler, a slot
for a visiting card greeted Barnum after he rang the bell. Doors opened
apparently by their own volition, and luncheon was served when Houdin
pressed a button that caused the dining table to rise from the floor.
Barnum also purchased in Paris a diorama of Napoleon’s funeral, showing
all the processional details from the embarkation of the body at St.
Helena to its entombment in the Invalides.
Barnum met at Liverpool by appointment a troupe of Lancashire Bell
Ringers, who were then enjoying popularity throughout the United
Kingdom. He hired them for a tour of the United States and an
engagement at the Museum, on condition that they would consent to a
change of name to the “Swiss Bell Ringers” and would also consent to
allow their mustaches to grow and to dress in Swiss costumes. When they
objected that they spoke only English, Barnum assured them that if they
kept their Lancashire dialect unspoiled by purer accents the American
people would never know that they were not talking Swiss.
In order to compensate the English people for the loss of some of their
curiosities, Barnum sent to England a party of American Indians, who
were exhibited successfully throughout Great Britain. He also sent
Professor Faber’s automaton speaker, a machine he had obtained while in
New York on one of his short trips. When played upon with proper piano
keys, this mechanical figure spoke English and German.
During the last two years of their tour abroad Barnum had taken General
Tom Thumb, through the agency of his father, into partnership, and the
profits of the successful tour were divided equally between them after
the first year. A London newspaper on September 18, 1847, reported that
Tom Thumb’s secretary had furnished one of the American newspapers with
a statement of his receipts in Europe, which were said to be more than
£150,000.
A few days after their arrival in New York Barnum put General Tom Thumb
on exhibition at the Museum. He advertised in the New York newspapers
of February 25, 1847:
GENERAL TOM THUMB, The Smallest man in Miniature in the known
world, weighing only FIFTEEN POUNDS, who has been patronized by
all the CROWNED HEADS of Europe, and been seen by over 5,000,000
persons, has returned to America, in the packet ship _Cambria_, and
will make his GRAND DEBUT at his former headquarters in this city,
the American Museum, where the most extensive preparations have
been made to receive him.
He will be seen this MORNING FROM 11½ to 1 O’CLOCK. On the platform
in one of the main halls of the Museum, in his extraordinary and
popular performances, including his CITIZEN’S DRESS, in which he
will relate his History, Travels, &c., sing a variety of songs,
dance the Polka, Sailor’s Hornpipe, give representations of
NAPOLEON, FREDERICK THE GREAT, GRECIAN STATUES, &c., &c. He will
also appear in his magnificent COURT DRESS Presented him by Queen
Victoria, of England, and worn before all the principal Courts of
Europe. After which he will appear in his BEAUTIFUL SCOTCH COSTUME,
in which he will dance the HIGHLAND FLING, &c.
THE MAGNIFICENT PRESENTS received from Queen Victoria and the
principal Crowned Heads of Europe will be exhibited in the
afternoon from 3 to 5 o’clock, and in the evening from 7½ to 9
o’clock.
The Little General will appear in various Costumes and Performances
on the Stage.
In the Lecture Room, in connection with other splendid
performances, including ETHIOPIAN MINSTRELS OR SERENADERS, the
Panoramic Representation of the
WAR IN AFGHANISTAN, GREAT WESTERN, the Yankee Comedian.
MISSES WHEELER AND JULIEN.
LIVING OURANG OUTANGS to be seen at all hours.
TWO MONSTER SNAKES, 20 feet long.
ANATOMICAL VENUS, to be seen at 1s. extra.
MADAME ROCKWELL, Fortune Teller.
It appears that some one had been converting the Moral Lecture Room
into a popular medical laboratory during Barnum’s absence abroad,
if the Anatomical Venus, to be seen at one shilling extra, is any
indication of a change of policy.
The crowds that welcomed General Tom Thumb home were larger than the
Museum had ever previously accommodated. His European reputation had
increased his popularity, and Barnum exploited it fully. It seems
that other showmen exploited it also. W. C. Coup, who many years
later became associated with Barnum in the circus, wrote in his book
of circus life, _Sawdust and Spangles_, of an enterprising circus
crier, who, many years after General Tom Thumb had ceased to exhibit,
announced a small boy as General Tom Thumb. He had a coach and ponies
for his exhibition, and the barker shouted:
“Ladies and Gentlemen: We have little Tom Thumb inside. More than
this, we have the carriage which was presented to him by her
Majesty, Queen Victoria, of England. Ladies and gentlemen, Queen
Victoria gave this superb outfit to him with the words: ‘Here, Tom
Thumb, is the little carriage, together with the horses, together
with the harness--here, Thomas, take it. Take these to America;
show it to your countrymen. Tell the people of America that it cost
three thousand pounds in our money or $15,000 in their money. Take
it, Thomas; take it.’”
In April, 1847, Barnum and Tom Thumb’s parents toured the United States
with their foreign and domestic celebrity. They visited all the large
cities of the East and many New England towns. In Washington they
were received at the White House by President Polk and Mrs. Polk. In
Philadelphia the receipts for twelve days were $5,594.91, and for
the entire tour the receipts averaged $500 a day, the expenses being
twenty-five dollars a day for the party. Barnum once said, pointing to
General Tom Thumb, “That is my piece of goods; I have sold it hundreds
of thousands of times, and have never delivered it.” In November they
exhibited in the South and also visited Havana, Cuba, where they found
it difficult to get a good meal but received large amounts of money
from the excited population for a sight of General Tom Thumb and his
autograph. The General’s tiny autograph was always in demand, and he
sold it often, but sometimes he gave it away and with it interesting
sentiments. He wrote at this time the following letter on his small
stationery in his tiny handwriting, to a clergyman who had requested
his autograph:
“CONGRESS HALL, ALBANY, July 22d, ’47.
“RESPECTED SIR:
“In accordance with your request, I send you a _little_ note. My
travels have thus far been chiefly in England, Scotland, Ireland,
France, Belgium, Spain, and a portion of the United States.
“I was born in Bridgeport, Ct., the 11 of January, 1832. I have
traveled fifty thousand miles, been before more crowned heads than
any other Yankee living, except my friend Mr. Barnum, and have
kissed nearly Two Millions of ladies, including the Queens of
England, France, Belgium, and Spain.
“I read the Bible every day, and am very fond of reading the New
Testament. I love my Saviour and it makes me happy. I adore my
Creator and know that He is good to us all. He has given me a small
body, but I believe he has not contracted my heart, nor brain, nor
_soul_. I shall praise his name evermore.
“Time compels me to make this note _short_ like _myself_.
“I am, my dear sir,
“Truly yours,
“CHARLES S. STRATTON,
“known as
“GENERAL TOM THUMB.[6]
“To Rev. Dr. Sprague, Albany.”
IV
While Barnum was traveling in this country with General Tom Thumb in
the summer of 1848, he saw in Cincinnati what was to become one of his
best known curiosities and shams. A woolly horse was announced for
exhibition in Cincinnati, and Barnum, ever on the alert for Museum
material, inspected the freak of nature. He was a small, well-formed
animal with no mane and very little hair on his tail, but the body and
legs were completely covered with a natural growth of curly, thick
hair, similar to sheep’s wool. Barnum saw excellent possibilities in
this animal, if he was properly exploited by opportune publicity. He
purchased the woolly horse and sent him to Bridgeport, to be kept
in strict retirement until the proper occasion for his début should
present itself. Barnum knew that a woolly horse exhibited at the Museum
would be nothing but another curiosity, and his unfailing instinct for
appropriate publicity told him that if The Woolly Horse were to become
a phenomenon, he must be tied to a public event.
Not long after Barnum bought The Woolly Horse, Colonel Frémont was lost
in the Rocky Mountains. The whole country was interested in his fate,
and news of his expedition was telegraphed everywhere every day. It
was feared that he and his party had died during the severe winter in
the mountains. Finally, after weeks of public anxiety, news of Colonel
Frémont’s safety came from the West and was telegraphed throughout the
country. The public was relieved, and thankful for a new hero.
Barnum saw his opportunity. The Woolly Horse was led out of the
Bridgeport barn, covered with blankets and leggins to conceal his
unique features, and shipped to New York, where he remained in an
obscure livery stable until Barnum’s publicity was ripe. The next
despatches to the New York newspapers from the West announced that
Colonel Frémont had captured near the Gila River a most extraordinary
animal, who had no mane and no hair on his tail, but whose body was
covered with a thick coat of wool. The despatches added that the
Colonel had sent the animal to the United States Quartermaster General
as a token of his esteem. Two days later this advertisement appeared in
the New York newspapers:
“COL. FREMONT’S NONDESCRIPT OR WOOLLY HORSE will be exhibited for
a few days at the corner of Broadway and Reade Street, previous
to his departure for London. Nature seems to have exerted all
her ingenuity in the production of this astounding animal. He
is extremely complex--made up of the Elephant, Deer, Horse,
Buffalo, Camel, and Sheep. It is the full size of a Horse, has the
haunches of a Deer, the tail of the Elephant, a fine curled wool
of camel’s hair color, and easily bounds twelve or fifteen feet
high. Naturalists and the oldest trappers assured Col. Frémont that
it was never known previous to his discovery. It is undoubtedly
‘Nature’s last,’ and the richest specimen received from California.
To be seen every day this week. Admittance 25 cents; children half
price.”
This was the third time that Barnum had used the same method with
different curiosities. He had been successful in this anonymous manner
of presentation with The Fejee Mermaid and the Buffalo Hunt of Hoboken,
and there was no suspicion of Barnum in this third venture. Pictures of
Colonel Frémont and his brave soldiers chasing Barnum’s Woolly Horse
through the Rocky Mountains were posted about New York, and the public
rushed to see the curiosity, for it was avid of concrete evidence of
Colonel Frémont’s expedition, which was thrilling because it had almost
been tragic. No one questioned the authenticity of The Woolly Horse;
Colonel Frémont had not yet come out of the West, and there was no one
else interested enough to deny with authority the animal’s relations
with the Colonel.
After New York had more than paid for the expenses of The Woolly Horse,
Barnum sent the animal to several other large cities, enjoying equal
success. Finally, he appeared in Washington, where Barnum planned, as
he expressed it, “to pull the wool over the eyes of the politicians.”
He was successful in this endeavor for several days, and then Colonel
Benton, who was senator from Missouri, and who was the father-in-law
of Colonel Frémont, saw The Woolly Horse, and denied publicly and with
emphasis that his son-in-law had ever seen the animal. Colonel Benton
instituted a suit against Barnum’s agent for obtaining twenty-five
cents from him under false pretenses. At the trial the senator
testified that he had received many letters from his son-in-law since
Colonel Frémont had come out of the mountains, and that no mention had
ever been made of The Woolly Horse; he was sure that Colonel Frémont
had never seen the animal. But the court was not so sure, for it was
decided that the evidence against Barnum’s agent was not substantial
enough, and Colonel Benton’s case was dismissed. The publicity of the
trial caused an increase in the receipts, and Barnum kept The Woolly
Horse in Washington only long enough to satisfy public curiosity
without turning his discovery from a joke into an outrage in the public
mind. The horse was sent back to Bridgeport, where he was turned loose
in a field adjoining Barnum’s new home, and served as an advertisement
for P. T. Barnum and his Museum, because every one who passed
Bridgeport in the trains saw The Woolly Horse eating Barnum’s grass.
This deception enraged the newspaper editors, who had been fooled by
it, and delighted the public, who enjoy being fooled at a moderate
sum so long as they have plenty of company. It was referred to for
many years, along with The Fejee Mermaid, by hostile editors, and
particularly by James Gordon Bennett, whenever they wanted to write
against Barnum. And he himself grew rather ashamed of it, as he did of
Joice Heth and The Fejee Mermaid, for it is only in the first edition
of his autobiography that he mentions this deception.