BEATING A LANDLORD--A JOKE ON TURNER--BARNUM AS A PREACHER AND AS
A NEGRO MINSTREL--A BAD MAN WITH A GUN--DEALING WITH A
SHERIFF--"LADY HAYES"--AN EMBARASSED JUGGLER--BARNUM AS A
MATRIMONIAL AGENT.
At almost every place visited by the travelling company, some
notable incident occurred. At Hanover Court House, Virginia, for
example, it was raining so heavily that they could not give a
performance, and Turner therefore decided to start for Richmond
immediately after dinner. Their landlord, however, said that as
their agent had engaged three meals and lodgings for the whole
troupe, the whole bill must be paid whether they went then or
stayed until next morning. No compromise could be made with the
stubborn fellow, and Turner was equally stubborn in his
determination both to go at once and also to have the worth of
his money. The following programme was accordingly carried out,
Turner insisting upon every detail:
Dinner was ordered at twelve o'clock and was duly prepared and
eaten. As soon as the table was cleared, supper was ordered, at
half past twelve. After eating as much of this as their dinner
had left room for, the whole company went to bed at one o'clock
in the afternoon. Each man insisted upon taking a lighted candle
to his room, and the whole thirty-six of them undressed and went
to bed as though they proposed to stay all night. Half an hour
later they arose and dressed again and went down to breakfast,
which Turner had ordered served at two o'clock sharp. They could
eat but little of this meal, of course, but they did the best
they could, and at half past two in the afternoon were on their
way to Richmond. Throughout the whole absurd proceedings the
landlord was furiously angry. Turner was as solemn as a corpse,
and the rest of the company were convulsed with laughter.
After the performance one evening at Richmond, Barnum tried to
pay Turner for that practical joke about the Rev. Mr. Avery. A
score of the company were telling stories and singing songs in
the sitting room of the hotel. Presently somebody began
propounding some amusing arithmetical problems. Then Turner
proposed one, which was readily solved. Barnum's turn came next,
and he offered the following, for Turner's especial benefit:
"Suppose a man is thirty years of age, and he has a child one
year of age; he is thirty times older than his child. When the
child is thirty years old, the father, being sixty, is only twice
as old as his child. When the child is sixty the father is
ninety, and therefore only one-third older than the child. When
the child is ninety the father is one hundred and twenty, and
therefore only one-fourth older than the child. Thus you see, the
child is gradually but surely gaining on the parent, and as he
certainly continues to come nearer and nearer, in time he must
overtake him. The question therefore is, suppose it was possible
for them to live long enough, how old would the father be when
the child overtook him and became of the same age?"
The company generally saw the catch; but Turner was very much
interested in the problem, and although he admitted he knew
nothing about arithmetic, he was convinced that as the son was
gradually gaining on the father he must reach him if there was
time enough--say, a thousand years, or so--for the race. But an
old gentleman gravely remarked that the idea of a son becoming as
old as his father while both were living, was simply nonsense,
and he offered to bet a dozen of champagne that the thing was
impossible, even "in figures." Turner, who was a betting man, and
who thought the problem might be proved, accepted the wager; but
he was soon convinced that however much the boy might relatively
gain upon his father, there would always be thirty years
difference in their ages. The champagne cost him $25, and he
failed to see the fun of Barnum's arithmetic, though at last he
acknowledged that it was a fair offset to the Avery trick.
From Richmond they went to Petersburg, and thence to Warrenton,
North Carolina, and there, on October 30, Barnum and Turner
separated, Barnum's engagement having expired with a clear profit
to himself of about $1,200. Barnum took Vivalla, a negro singer
and dancer named James Sandford, several musicians, horses and
wagons, and a small canvas tent. With these he proposed to carry
on a travelling show of his own. His first stop was on Saturday,
November 12, 1836, at Rocky Mount Falls, North Carolina. The next
day, being Sunday, Barnum set out for church. "I noticed," he
says, "a stand and benches in a grove near by, and determined to
speak to the people if I was permitted. The landlord who was with
me said that the congregation, coming from a distance to attend a
single service, would be very glad to hear a stranger, and I
accordingly asked the venerable clergyman to announce that after
service I would speak for half an hour in the grove. Learning
that I was not a clergyman, he declined to give the notice, but
said that he had no objection to my making the announcement,
which I did, and the congregation, numbering about three hundred,
promptly came to hear me.
"I told them I was not a preacher, and had very little experience
in public speaking, but I felt a deep interest in matters of
morality and religion, and would attempt in a plain way, to set
before them the duties and privileges of man. I appealed to every
man's experience, observation and reason, to confirm the Bible
doctrine of wretchedness in vice and happiness in virtue. We
cannot violate the laws of God with impunity, and He will not
keep back the wages of well-doing. The outside show of things is
of very small account. We must look to realities and not to
appearances. 'Diamonds may glitter on a vicious breast,' but 'the
soul's calm sunshine and the heart-felt joy is virtue's prize.'
The rogue, the passionate man, the drunkard, are not to be envied
even at the best, and a conscience hardened by sin is the most
sorrowful possession we can think of."
Barnum proceeded in this strain with various scriptural
quotations and familiar illustrations, for three-quarters of an
hour. At the end of his address several persons came up to shake
hands with him, saying that they had been greatly pleased and
edified by his remarks and asking to know his name. He went away
feeling that possibly he had done some good by means of his
impromptu preaching.
The negro singer and dancer, Sandford, abruptly deserted the show
at Camden, South Carolina, and left Barnum in a bad plight. An
entertainment of negro songs had been advertised, and no one was
able to fill Sandford's place. Barnum was determined, however,
that his audience should not be disappointed, and so he blackened
his own face and went on the stage himself, singing a number of
plantation melodies. His efforts were received with great
applause, and he was recalled several times. This performance was
repeated for several evenings.
One night after thus personating a negro, Barnum heard a
disturbance outside the tent. Hastening to the spot he found a
man quarreling with one of his company. He interfered, whereupon
the man drew a pistol and pointing it at Barnum's head,
exclaimed, "you black scoundrel! How dare you use such language
to a white man?" He evidently took Barnum for a real negro, and
in another moment would have blown his brains out. But quick as a
flash the showman exclaim, "I am as white as you!" and at the
same moment rolled up his sleeves showing the white skin of his
arm. The other man dropped his pistol in consternation and humbly
begged Barnum's pardon.
"On four different occasions in my life," said Mr. Barnum not
long before his death, "I have had a loaded pistol pointed at my
head and each time I have escaped death by what seemed a miracle.
I have also often been in deadly peril by accidents, and when I
think of these things I realize my indebtedness to an
all-protecting Providence. Reviewing my career, too, and
considering the kind of company I kept for years and the
associations with which I was surrounded and connected, I am
surprised as well as grateful that I was not ruined. I honestly
believe that I owe my preservation from the degradation of living
and dying a loafer and a vagabond, to the single fact that I was
never addicted to strong drink. To be sure, I have in times past
drank liquor, but I have generally wholly abstained from
intoxicating beverages, and for many years, I am glad to say, I
have been a strict 'teetotaller.' "
At Camden, Barnum also lost one of his musicians, a Scotchman
named Cochran. This man was arrested and, in spite of Barnum's
efforts to save him, imprisoned for many months for advising a
negro barber who was shaving him to run away to the Free States
or to Canada. To fill up his ranks Barnum now hired Bob White, a
negro singer, and Joe Pentland, a clown, ventriloquist, comic
singer, juggler, and sleight-of-hand performer, and also bought
four horses and two wagons. He called this enlarged show
"Barnum's Grand Scientific and Musical Theatre."
At Raleigh, North Carolina, Barnum had sold a half interest in
his show to a man called Henry,--not his real name. The latter
now acted as treasurer and ticket taker. When they reached
Augusta, Georgia, the Sheriff served a writ upon Henry for a debt
of $500. As Henry had $600 of the Company's money in his pockets,
Barnum at once secured a bill of sale of all his property in the
exhibition. Armed with this he met Henry's creditor and his
lawyer, who demanded the key of the stable, so that they might
levy on the horses and wagons. Barnum asked them to wait a little
while until he could see Henry, to which they agreed. Henry was
anxious to cheat his creditor, and accordingly was glad to sign
the bill of sale. Then Barnum returned and told the creditor and
his lawyer that Henry would neither pay nor compromise the claim.
The Sheriff thereupon demanded the stable key, so that he might
attach Henry's share of the property. "Not yet," said Barnum,
pulling out the bill of sale, "I am in possession as entire owner
of this property. I have already purchased it, and you have not
yet levied on it. You will touch my property at your peril."
The creditor and the sheriff were thus baffled, but they
immediately arrested Henry and took him to prison. The next day
Barnum learned that Henry really owed $1,300, and that he had
promised his creditor that he would pay him $500 of the company's
money and a bill of sale of his interest in the show at the end
of the Saturday night performance, in consideration of which the
creditor was to allow him to take one of the horses and run away,
leaving Barnum in the lurch. Learning this, Barnum was not
disposed to help Henry any further. Finding that Henry had
intrusted the $500 to Vivalla, to keep it from the sheriff,
Barnum secured it from Vivalla on Henry's order, under pretense
of securing bail for the prisoner. Then he paid the creditor the
full amount obtained from Henry as the price of his half-interest
and received in return an assignment of $500 of the creditor's
claim and a guarantee that he should not be troubled by Henry for
it. Thus his own promptness rescued Barnum from one of the most
unpleasant situations in which he was ever placed.
After this they got into one of the most desolate parts of
Georgia. One night their advance agent, finding it impossible to
reach the next town, arranged for the whole show to spend the
night at a miserable and solitary hovel owned by an old woman
named Hayes. The horses were to be picketed in a field, and the
company were to sleep in the tent and the out houses. Posters
were scattered over the country, announcing that a performance
would be given there the next day, the agent thinking that, as a
show was a rarity in that region, a considerable number of small
farmers would be glad to attend.
"Meanwhile," says Barnum, "our advertiser, who was quite a wag,
wrote back informing us of the difficulty of reaching a town on
that part of our route, and stating that he had made arrangements
for us to stay over night on the plantation of 'Lady Hayes,' and
that although the country was sparsely settled, we could
doubtless give a profitable performance to a fair audience.
"Anticipating a fine time on this noble 'plantation,' we started
at four o'clock in the morning so as to arrive at one o'clock,
thus avoiding the heat of the afternoon. Towards noon we came to
a small river where some men, whom we afterwards discovered to be
down-east Yankees, from Maine, were repairing a bridge. Every
flooring plank had been taken up, and it was impossible for our
teams to cross. 'Could the bridge be fixed so that we could go
over?' I inquired. 'No; it would take half a day, and meantime,
if we must cross, there was a place about sixteen miles down the
river where we could get over. 'But we can't go so far as that;
we are under engagement to perform on Lady Hayes's place
to-night, and we must cross here. Fix the bridge and we will pay
you handsomely.'
"They wanted no money, but if we would give them some tickets to
our show they thought they might do something for us. I gladly
consented, and in fifteen minutes we crossed that bridge. The
cunning rascals had seen our posters and knew we were coming; so
they had taken up the planks of the bridge and had hidden them
till they had levied upon us for tickets, when the floor was
re-laid in a quarter of an hour.
"Towards dinner-time we began to look out for the grand mansion
of 'Lady Hayes,' and seeing nothing but little huts we quietly
pursued our journey. At one o'clock--the time when we should have
arrived at our destination--I became impatient, and riding up to
a poverty-stricken hovel and seeing a ragged, bare-footed old
woman, with her sleeves rolled up to her shoulders, who was
washing clothes in front of the door, I inquired--" 'Hello! can
you tell me where Lady Hayes lives?'
"The old woman raised her head, which was covered with tangled
locks and matted hair, and exclaimed--" 'Hey?'
" 'No, Hayes, Lady Hayes; where is her plantation?'
" 'This is the place,' she answered; 'I'm Widder Hayes, and you
are all to stay here to-night.'
"We could not believe our ears or eyes; but after putting the
dirty old woman through a severe cross-examination she finally
produced a contract, signed by our advertiser, agreeing for board
and lodging for the company, and we found ourselves booked for
the night. It appeared that our advertiser could find no better
quarters in that forlorn section, and he had indulged in a joke
at our expense by exciting our appetites and imaginations in
anticipation of the luxuries we should find in the magnificent
mansion of 'Lady Hayes.'
"Joe Pentland grumbled, Bob White indulged in some very strong
language, and Signor Vivalla laughed. He had travelled with his
monkey and organ in Italy and could put up with any fare that
offered. I took the disappointment philosophically, simply
remarking that we must make the best of it and compensate
ourselves when we reached a town next day.
"The next forenoon we arrived at Macon, and congratulated
ourselves that we had reached the regions of civilization.
"In going from Columbus, Ga., to Montgomery, Ala., we were
obliged to cross a thinly-settled, desolate tract, known as the
'Indian Nation,' and as several persons had been murdered by
hostile Indians in that region, it was deemed dangerous to travel
the road without an escort. Only the day before we started, the
mail stage had been stopped and the passengers murdered, the
driver alone escaping. We were well armed, however, and trusted
that our numbers would present too formidable a force to be
attacked, though we dreaded to incur the risk. Vivalla alone was
fearless and was ready to encounter fifty Indians and drive them
into the swamp.
"Accordingly, when we had safely passed over the entire route to
within fourteen miles of Montgomery, and were beyond the reach of
danger, Joe Pentland determined to test Vivalla's bravery. He had
secretly purchased at Mt. Megs, on the way, an old Indian dress
with a fringed hunting shirt and moccasins and these he put on,
after coloring his face with Spanish brown. Then shouldering his
musket he followed Vivalla and the party, and, approaching
stealthily leaped into their midst with a tremendous whoop.
"Vivalla's companions were in the secret, and they instantly fled
in all directions. Vivalla himself ran like a deer and Pentland
after him, gun in hand and yelling horribly. After running a full
mile the poor little Italian, out of breath and frightened nearly
to death, dropped on his knees and begged for his life. The
'Indian' leveled his gun at his victim, but soon seemed to
relent, and signified that Vivalla should turn his pockets inside
out--which he did, producing and handing over a purse containing
eleven dollars. The savage then marched Vivalla to an oak, and
with a handkerchief tied him in the most approved Indian manner
to the tree, leaving him half dead with fright.
"Pentland then joined us, and washing his face and changing his
dress, we all went to the relief of Vivalla. He was overjoyed to
see us, and when he was released his courage returned; he swore
that after his companions left him, the Indian had been
re-inforced by six more, to whom, in default of a gun or other
means to defend himself, Vivalla had been compelled to surrender.
We pretended to believe his story for a week, and then told him
the joke, which he refused to credit, and also declined to take
the money which Pentland offered to return, as it could not
possibly be his since seven Indians had taken his money. We had a
great deal of fun over Vivalla's courage, but the matter made him
so cross and surly that we were finally obliged to drop it
altogether. From that time forward, however, Vivalla never
boasted of his prowess."
At the end of February, 1837, they reached Montgomery, and there
Barnum sold a half interest in his show to Henry Hawley, a
sleight-of-hand performer. He was a very clever fellow and was
never known to be non-plussed or embarrassed in his tricks,
except upon one occasion. This was when he was performing the
well-known egg and bag trick, which he did with great success,
taking egg after egg from the bag and finally breaking one to
show that they were genuine. "Now," said he "I will show you the
old hen that laid them." But it happened that the negro boy to
whom had been intrusted the duty of supplying "properties," had
made a slight mistake. The result was that Hawley triumphantly
produced not "the old hen that laid the eggs," but a most
palpable and evident rooster. The audience roared with laughter,
and Hawley, completely taken aback, fled in confusion to his
dressing room, uttering furious maledictions upon the boy who was
the author of his woe.
The show visited various places in Alabama, Tennessee and
Kentucky, and finally disbanded at Nashville in May, 1837.
Vivalla went to New York and gave some performances on his own
account before sailing for Cuba. Hawley remained in Tennessee,
and Barnum went home to his family. Early in July, however, he
formed a new company and went back to rejoin Hawley. But they
were not successful, and in August they parted again, Barnum
forming a new partnership with one Z. Graves. He then went to
Tiffin, Ohio, where he re-engaged Joe Pentland and got together
the nucleus of a new company.
During his short stay at Tiffin, Barnum got into a discussion
with various gentlemen on religious subjects, and in response to
their invitation lectured, or preached, in the school-house on
Sunday afternoon and evening. He also went to the neighboring
town of Republic and delivered two lectures.
On his way back to Kentucky, just before he reached Cincinnati,
he met a drove of hogs. One of the drivers made an insolent
remark because the circus wagons interfered with the driving of
the hogs, and Barnum responded angrily. Thereupon the fellow
jumped from his horse, pointed a pistol at Barnum's breast and
swore he would shoot him if he did not apologize. Barnum asked
permission to speak first to a friend in the next wagon, after
which, he said, he would give the man full satisfaction. The
"friend" proved to be a loaded double barrelled gun, which Barnum
leveled at the hog-driver's head, saying:
"Now, sir, you must apologize, or have your brains blown out. You
drew a weapon upon me for a careless remark. You seem to hold
human life at a cheap price. Now you have the choice between a
load of shot and an apology."
The man apologized promptly, a pleasant conversation ensued, and
they parted excellent friends.
On this tour they exhibited at Nashville, where Barnum visited
General Jackson at the Hermitage; at Huntsville, Tuscaloosa,
Vicksburg and various other places, generally doing well. At
Vicksburg they bought a steamboat and went down the river,
stopping at every important landing to exhibit. At Natchez their
cook deserted them, and Barnum set out to find another. He found
a white woman who was willing to go, only she expected to marry a
painter in that town, and did not want to leave him. Barnum went
to see the painter and found that he had not fully made up his
mind whether to marry the woman or not. Thereupon the
enterprising showman told the painter that if he would marry the
woman the next morning he would hire him for $25 a month as
painter, and his bride at the same wages as cook, give them both
their board and add a cash bonus of $50. There was a wedding on
the boat the next day, and they had a good cook and a good
dinner.
During one evening performance at Francisville, Louisiana, a man
tried to pass Barnum at the door of the tent, claiming that he
had paid for admittance. Barnum refused him entrance; and as he
was slightly intoxicated, he struck Barnum with a slung shot,
mashing his hat and grazing what phrenologists call "the organ of
caution." He went away and soon returned with a gang of armed and
half-drunken companions, who ordered the showmen to pack up their
"traps and plunder" and to get on board their steamboat within an
hour. The big tent speedily came down. No one was permitted to
help, but the company worked with a will, and within five minutes
of the expiration of the hour they were on board and ready to
leave. The scamps who had caused their departure escorted them
and their last load, waving pine torches, and saluted them with a
hurrah as they swung into the stream.
The New Orleans papers of March 19th, 1838, announced the arrival
of the "Steamer Ceres, Captain Barnum, with a theatrical
company." After a week's performance, they started for the
Attakapas country. At Opelousas they exchanged the steamer for
sugar and molasses; the company was disbanded, and Barnum started
for home, arriving in New York. June 4th, 1838.