FINDING HIS TRUE VOCATION--THE PURCHASE OF JOICE HETH--EVIDENCE
AS TO HER AGE--HER DEATH--SIGNOR VIVALLA--A VISIT TO
WASHINGTON--JOINING A TRAVELLING CIRCUS--CONTROVERSIES WITH
MINISTERS--THE VICTIM OF A PRACTICAL JOKE.
Barnum was now satisfied that he had not yet found his proper
level. He had not yet entered the business for which nature had
designed him. There was only a prospect of his going on from this
to that, as his father had done before him, trying many callings
but succeeding in none. He had not yet discovered that love of
amusement is one of the strongest passions of the human heart.
This, however, was a lesson that he was soon to learn; and he was
to achieve both fame and fortune as a caterer to the public
desire for entertainment.
Philosophizing on this theme in later years, Mr. Barnum once
said: "The show business has all phases and grades of dignity,
from the exhibition of a monkey to the exposition of that highest
art in music or the drama which entrances empires and secures for
the gifted artist a worldwide fame which princes well might envy.
Men, women and children, who cannot live on gravity alone, need
something to satisfy their gayer, lighter moods and hours, and he
who ministers to this want is in a business established by the
Author of our nature. If he worthily fulfils his mission, and
amuses without corrupting, he need never feel that he has lived
in vain."
In the summer of 1835, Mr. Barnum was visited by Mr. Coley
Bartram, of Reading, Connecticut, who told him that he had owned
an interest in a remarkable negro woman, who was confidently
believed to be one hundred and sixty-one years old and to have
been the nurse of Washington. Mr. Bartram showed him a copy of an
advertisement in The Pennsylvania Inquirer for July 15, 1835, as
follows:
"CURIOSITY.--The citizens of Philadelphia and its vicinity have
an opportunity of witnessing at the Masonic Hall one of the
greatest natural curiosities ever witnessed, viz.: JOICE HETH, a
negress, aged 161 years, who formerly belonged to the father of
General Washington. She has been a member of the Baptist Church
one hundred and sixteen years, and can rehearse many hymns, and
sing them according to former custom. She was born near the old
Potomac River in Virginia, and has for ninety or one hundred
years lived in Paris, Kentucky, with the Bowling family.
"All who have seen this extraordinary woman are satisfied of the
truth of the account of her age. The evidence of the Bowling
family, which is respectable, is strong, but the original bill of
sale of Augustine Washington, in his own handwriting, and other
evidences which the proprietor has in his possession, will
satisfy even the most incredulous.
"A lady will attend at the hall during the afternoon and evening
for the accommodation of those ladies who may call."
Mr. Bartram told him, moreover, that he had sold out his interest
in the woman to R. W. Lindsay, of Jefferson county, Kentucky, who
was then exhibiting her as a curiosity, but was anxious to sell
her. Mr. Barnum had seen in some of the New York papers an
account of Joice Heth, and was so much interested in her that he
at once proceeded to Philadelphia to see her and Mr. Lindsay. How
he was impressed by her he has himself told. "Joice Heth," he
says, "was certainly a remarkable curiosity, and she looked as if
she might have been far older than her age as advertised. She was
apparently in good health and spirits, but from age or disease,
or both, was unable to change her position; she could move one
arm at will, but her lower limbs could not be straightened; her
left arm lay across her breast and she could not remove it; the
fingers of her left hand were drawn down so as nearly to close
it, and were fixed; the nails on that hand were almost four
inches long and extended above her wrist; the nails on her large
toes had grown to the thickness of a quarter of an inch; her head
was covered with a thick bush of grey hair; but she was toothless
and totally blind, and her eyes had sunk so deeply in the sockets
as to have disappeared altogether.
"Nevertheless she was pert and sociable, and would talk as long
as people would converse with her. She was quite garrulous about
her protege, 'dear little George,' at whose birth she declared
she was present, having been at the time a slave of Elizabeth
Atwood, a half-sister of Augustine Washington, the father of
George Washington. As nurse she put the first clothes on the
infant, and she claimed to have 'raised him.' She professed to be
a member of the Baptist Church, talking much in her way on
religious subjects, and she sang a variety of ancient hymns.
"In proof of her extraordinary age and pretensions, Mr. Lindsay
exhibited a bill of sale, dated February 5, 1727, from Augustine
Washington, county of Westmoreland, Virginia, to Elizabeth
Atwood, a half-sister and neighbor of Mr. Washington, conveying
'one negro women named Joice Heth, aged fifty-four years, for and
in consideration of the sum of thirty-three pounds lawful money
of Virginia.' It was further claimed that she had long been a
nurse in the Washington family; she was called in at the birth of
George and clothed the newborn infant. The evidence seemed
authentic, and in answer to the inquiry why so remarkable a
discovery had not been made before, a satisfactory explanation
was given in the statement that she had been carried from
Virginia to Kentucky, had been on the plantation of John S.
Bowling so long that no one knew or cared how old she was, and
only recently the accidental discovery by Mr. Bowling's son of
the old bill of sale in the Record Office in Virginia had led to
the identification of this negro woman as 'the nurse of
Washington.' "
Everything seemed to Barnum to be entirely straightforward, and
he decided, if possible, to purchase the woman. She was offered
to him at $1,000, although Lindsay at first wanted $3,000. Barnum
had $500 in cash, and was able to borrow $500 more. Thus he
secured Joice Heth, sold out his interest in the grocery business
to his partner, and entered upon his career as a showman. He
afterward declared that the least deserving of all his efforts in
the show line was this one which introduced him to the business;
it was a scheme in no sense of his own devising; but it was one
which had been for some time before the public, and which he
honestly and with good reason believed to be genuine. He entered
upon his new work with characteristic enterprise, resorting to
posters, transparencies, advertisements, newspaper paragraphs,
and everything else calculated to attract the attention of the
public, regardless of expense. He exhibited in New York, Boston,
Philadelphia, Albany, and many other places, where his rooms were
thronged and much money made. But in the following February Joice
Heth died of old age, and was buried at Bethel. A postmortem
examination was made by a surgeon and some medical students, who
were inclined to doubt if she really was as old as Lindsay had
said.
Thus ended Barnum's first enterprise as a showman. It had been
profitable to him, and had pointed out to him the path of
success. His next venture was entirely genuine and
straightforward. He engaged an Italian, who called himself Signor
Antonio, and who was a skilful performer on stilts, on the tight
rope and at juggling. Barnum engaged him for a year at $12 a week
and his expenses, and got him to change his stage name to Signor
Vivalla. He then resorted to his former means of advertising, and
started on his tour. For Vivalla's first week of performances
Barnum received $50, and for the second week three times as much.
At the close of the first performance, in response to loud
applause, Barnum appeared upon the stage and made a speech to the
audience, a performance which he repeated thousands of times in
after years. This engagement was at the Franklin Theatre in New
York.
The show next appeared in Boston, with great success. Next it
went to Washington and had a most disastrous week, for every
night was stormy. Indeed Barnum found himself literally stranded
there, with not enough money to get away. He was driven to pawn
his watch and chain for $35, and then met a friend who helped him
out of his dilemma.
"As this was my first visit to Washington, I was much
interested," says Barnum, "in visiting the capitol and other
public buildings. I also satisfied my curiosity in seeing Clay,
Calhoun, Benton, John Quincy Adams, Richard M. Johnson, Polk, and
other leading statesmen of the time. I was also greatly gratified
in calling upon Anne Royall, author of the Black Book, publisher
of a little paper called 'Paul Pry,' and quite a celebrated
personage in her day. I had exchanged The Herald of Freedom with
her journal, and she strongly sympathized with me in my
persecutions. She was delighted to see me, and although she was
the most garrulous old woman I ever saw, I passed a very amusing
and pleasant time with her. Before leaving her I manifested my
showman propensity by trying to hire her to give a dozen or more
lectures on 'Government' in the Atlantic cities, but I could not
engage her at any price, although I am sure the speculation would
have been a very profitable one. I never saw this eccentric woman
again; she died at a very advanced age, October 1, 1854, at her
residence in Washington."
From Washington the show went to Philadelphia and appeared at the
Walnut Street Theatre. The audiences were small and it was
evident that something must be done to arouse public interest.
"And now," says Barnum, "that instinct which can arouse a
community and make it patronize one, provided the article offered
is worthy of patronage, an instinct which served me greatly in
later years, astonishing the public and surprising me, came to my
relief, and the help, curiously enough, appeared in the shape of
an emphatic hiss from the pit!
"This hiss, I discovered, came from one Roberts, a circus
performer, and I had an interview with him. He was a professional
balancer and juggler, who boasted that he could do all Vivalla
had done and something more. I at once published a card in
Vivalla's name, offering $1,000 to any one who would publicly
perform Vivalla's feats at such place as should be designated,
and Roberts issued a counter card accepting the offer. I then
contracted with Mr. Warren, treasurer of the Walnut Street
Theatre, for one-third of the proceeds, if I should bring the
receipts up to $400 a night--an agreement he could well afford to
make as his receipts the night before had been but seventy-five
dollars. From him I went to Roberts, who seemed disposed to 'back
down,' but I told him that I should not insist upon the terms of
his published card, and ask him if he was under any engagement?
Learning that he was not I offered him thirty dollars to perform
under my direction one night at the Walnut, and he accepted. A
great trial of skill between Roberts and Vivalla was duly
announced by posters and through the press. Meanwhile, they
rehearsed privately to see what tricks each could perform, and
the 'business' was completely arranged.
"Public excitement was at fever heat, and on the night of the
trial the pit and upper boxes were crowded to the full. The
'contest' between the performers was eager, and each had his
party in the house. So far as I could learn, no one complained
that he did not get all he paid for on that occasion. I engaged
Roberts for a month, and his subsequent 'contests' with Vivalla
amused the public and put money in my purse."
In the spring of 1836 Barnum joined his show with Aaron Turner's
travelling circus, himself acting as ticket seller, secretary and
treasurer, at thirty dollars a month and one-fifth of the total
profits, while Vivalla was to get fifty dollars a month. Barnum
was himself paying Vivalla eighty dollars a month, so that he
really had left for himself only his one-fifth share of the
profits. The combined show set out from Danbury, Connecticut, for
West Springfield, Massachusetts, on April 26. On the first day,
Barnum relates, instead of stopping for dinner, Turner simply
distributed to the company three loaves of rye bread and a pound
of butter, which he bought at a farmhouse for fifty cents. On
April 28 they began their performances at West Springfield, and
as their band of music had not arrived from Providence, as
expected, Barnum made a speech to the audience in place of it,
which seemed to please everybody. The engagement was successful,
and the tour was continued during the summer through numerous
towns and cities in New England, the Middle States, Maryland,
Virginia and North Carolina.
Many incidents, humorous and otherwise, marked their progress. At
Cabotville, Massachusetts, on going to bed one night one of the
company threw a lighted cigar stump into a box of sawdust, and
the result was that, an hour or two later, they all narrowly
escaped suffocation from the smoke. At Lenox, Massachusetts, they
spent Sunday and Barnum went to church as usual. The sermon was
directed against the circus, denouncing it in very abusive terms
as an immoral and degrading institution. "Thereupon," says
Barnum, "when the minister had read the closing hymn, I walked up
the pulpit stairs and handed him a written request, signed 'P. T.
Barnum, connected with the circus, June 5, 1836,' to be permitted
to reply to him. He declined to notice it, and after the
benediction I lectured him for not giving me an opportunity to
vindicate myself and those with whom I was connected. The affair
created considerable excitement, and some of the members of the
church apologized to me for their clergyman's ill behavior. A
similar affair happened afterward at Port Deposit, on the lower
Susquehanna, and in this instance I addressed the audience for
half an hour, defending the circus company against the attacks of
the clergyman, and the people listened, though their pastor
repeatedly implored them to go home. Often have I collected our
company on Sunday and read to them the Bible or a printed sermon,
and one or more of the men frequently accompanied me to church.
We made no pretense of religion, but we were not the worst people
in the world, and we thought ourselves entitled to at least
decent treatment when we went to hear the preaching of the
Gospel."
Turner, the proprietor of the circus, was a self-made man. He had
made himself rich through industry, as he believed any other man
with common sense could do, and he was very proud of the fact. He
was also an inveterate practical joker, and once, at Annapolis,
Maryland, he played upon Barnum a trick which came very near
having a serious result. They got there on Saturday night, and
the next morning Barnum went out for a walk, wearing a fine new
suit of black clothes. As he passed through the bar-room and out
of the hotel Turner said to some bystanders, who did not know
Barnum:
"I think it very singular that you permit that rascal to march
your streets in open day. It wouldn't be allowed in Rhode Island,
and I suppose that is the reason the scoundrel has come down this
way."
"Why, who is he?" they demanded.
"Don't you know? Why, that is the Rev. E. K. Avery, the murderer
of Miss Cornell."
Instantly there was a rush of the whole crowd to the door, eager
to get another look at Barnum, and uttering threats of vengeance.
This man Avery had only lately been tried in Rhode Island for the
murder of Miss Cornell, whose dead body was discovered in a
stack-yard, and though he was acquitted by the court everybody
believed him guilty. Accordingly, Barnum soon found himself
overtaken and surrounded by a mob of one hundred or more and his
ears saluted with such remarks as "the lecherous old hypocrite,"
"the sanctified murderer," "the black-coated villain," "lynch
him," "tar and feather him," and others still more harsh and
threatening. Then one man seized him by the collar, while others
brought a fence rail and some rope.
"Come," said the man who collared him, "old chap, you can't walk
any further; we know you, and as we always make gentlemen ride in
these parts, you may just prepare to straddle that rail!"
His surprise may be imagined. "Good heavens!" he exclaimed, as
they all pressed around, "gentlemen, what have I done?"
"Oh, we know you," exclaimed half a dozen voices; "you needn't
roll your sanctimonious eyes; that game don't take in this
country. Come, straddle the rail, and REMEMBER THE STACK-YARD!"
He grew more and more bewildered; he could not imagine what
possible offence he was to suffer for, and he continued to
exclaim, "Gentlemen, what have I done? Don't kill me, gentlemen,
but tell me what I have done."
"Come, make him straddle the rail; we'll show him how to hang
poor factory girls," shouted a man in the crowd.
The man who had him by the collar then remarked "Come, MR. AVERY,
it's no use; you see, we know you, and we'll give you a touch of
lynch law, and start you for home again."
"My name is NOT Avery, gentlemen; you are mistaken in your man,"
he exclaimed.
"Come, come, none of your gammon; straddle the rail, Ephraim."
The rail was brought and Barnum was about to be placed on it,
when the truth flashed upon him.
"Gentlemen," he exclaimed, "I am not Avery; I despise that
villain as much as you can; my name is Barnum; I belong to the
circus which arrived here last night, and I am sure Old Turner,
my partner, has hoaxed you with this ridiculous story."
"If he has we'll lynch him," said one of the mob.
"Well, he has, I'll assure you, and if you will walk to the hotel
with me, I'll convince you of the fact."
This they reluctantly assented to, keeping, however, a close hand
upon him. As they walked up the main street, the mob received a
re-enforcement of some fifty or sixty, and Barnum was marched
like a malefactor up to the hotel. Old Turner stood on the piazza
ready to explode with laughter. Barnum appealed to him for
heaven's sake to explain this matter, that he might be liberated.
He continued to laugh, but finally told them "he believed there
was some mistake about it. The fact is," said he, "my friend
Barnum has a new suit of black clothes on and he looks so much
like a priest that I thought he must be Avery."
The crowd saw the joke and seemed satisfied. Barnum's new coat
had been half-torn from his back, and he had been very roughly
handled. But some of the crowd apologized for the outrage,
declaring that Turner ought to be served in the same way, while
others advised Barnum to "get even with him." Barnum was very
much offended, and when the mob-dispersed he asked Turner what
could have induced him to play such a trick.
"My dear Mr. Barnum," he replied, "it was all for our good.
Remember, all we need to insure success is notoriety. You will
see that this will be noised all about town as a trick played by
one of the circus managers upon the other, and our pavilion will
be crammed to-morrow night."
It was even so; the trick was told all over town, and every one
came to see the circus managers who were in a habit of playing
practical jokes upon each other. They had fine audiences while
they remained at Annapolis, but it was a long time before Barnum
forgave Turner for his rascally "joke."