CONQUEST OF THE HABANEROS--THE ITALIAN AND HIS DOG--MAD
BENNETT--A SUCCESSFUL RUSE--RETURN TO NEW ORLEANS--A LUDICROUS
INCIDENT--UP THE MISSISSIPPI--LEGERDEMAIN.
Soon after arriving at Havana, Barnum made a discovery. The
Habaneros, not accustomed to the high prices which opera tickets
command in the States, had determined that they would force
Barnum to lower the admission fee. This the manager refused to
do, and it soon became evident that although they attended the
concerts, they were not disposed to show the singer the least
favor. It was, therefore, with much inward trepidation that
Barnum watched the curtain rise on the first concert. The
following account of that concert is taken from the New York
Tribune:
"Jenny Lind soon appeared, led on by Signor Belletti. Some three
or four hundred persons clapped their hands at her appearance,
but this token of approbation was instantly silenced by at least
two thousand five hundred decided hisses. Thus having settled the
matter that there should be no forestalling of public opinion,
and that it applause was given to Jenny Lind in that house it
should first be incontestably earned, the most solemn silence
prevailed. I have heard the Swedish Nightingale often in Europe
as well as in America, and have ever noticed a distinct
tremulousness attending her first appearance in any city. Indeed
this feeling was plainly manifested in her countenance as she
neared the foot-lights; but when she witnessed the kind of
reception in store for her--so different from anything she had
reason to expect--her countenance changed in an instant to a
haughty self-possession, her eyes flashed defiance, and, becoming
immovable as a statue, she stood there perfectly calm and
beautiful. She was satisfied that she now had an ordeal to pass
and a victory to gain worthy of her powers. In a moment her eye
scanned the immense audience, the music began and then
followed--how can I describe it?--such heavenly strains as I
verily believe mortal never breathed except Jenny Lind, and
mortal never heard except from her lips. Some of the oldest
Castilians kept a frown upon their brow and a curling sneer upon
their lips; their ladies, however, and most of the audience began
to look surprised. The gushing melody flowed on, increasing in
beauty and glory. The caballeros, the senoras and senoritas began
to look at each other; nearly all, however, kept their teeth
clenched and their lips closed, evidently determined to resist to
the last. The torrent flowed deeper and faster, the lark flew
higher and higher, the melody grew richer and grander; still
every lip was compressed. By and by, as the rich notes came
dashing in rivers upon our enraptured ears, one poor critic
involuntarily whispered a 'brava.' This outbursting of the soul
was instantly hissed down. The stream of harmony rolled on till,
at the close, it made a clean sweep of every obstacle, and
carried all before it. Not a vestige of opposition remained, but
such a tremendous shout of applause as went up I never before
heard.
"The triumph was most complete. And how was Jenny Lind affected?
She who stood a few moments previous like adamant, now trembled
like a reed in the wind before the storm of enthusiasm which her
own simple notes had produced. Tremblingly, slowly, and almost
bowing her face to the ground, she withdrew. The roar and
applause of victory increased. 'Encore! encore! encore!' came
from every lip. She again appeared, and courtesying low, again
withdrew; but again, again and again did they call her out and at
every appearance the thunders of applause rang louder and louder.
Thus five times was Jenny Lind called out to receive their
unanimous and deafening plaudits."
With tears of joy rolling down his cheeks, Barnum rushed behind
the scenes, and met her as she was withdrawing after the fifth
encore.
"God bless you, Jenny," he cried, "you've settled them!"
"Are you satisfied?" said the singer, throwing her arms around
his neck and weeping for joy. This was the first she had known of
the opposition, all hint of it having been kept from her by Mr.
Barnum, but she fully sympathized with him in his determination
not to lower the prices.
The papers continued to cry out for a reduction, and this caused
many people to stay away from the concerts, expecting Barnum to
yield. But when, after three concerts, it was announced that the
next one, devoted to charity, was also to be Miss Lind's
farewell, they became very much excited. Committees waited on
them to request more concerts, which resulted only in refusals:
some of the leading Dons offered to guarantee them $25,000, for
three concerts, but Barnum assured them that there was not money
enough in the Island of Cuba to induce him to consent.
The proceeds of the fourth concert were distributed between two
hospitals and a convent, besides giving $500 to Barnum's old
protege Vivalla, the little Italian plate-dancer, whom they had
met in Havana. The poor fellow's fortunes were at a very low ebb,
having lost the use of his left side from paralysis. He supported
himself by exhibiting a performing dog, which turned a spinning
wheel and did several other tricks. Miss Lind had heard of his
case and was very anxious that part of the benefit money should
be given him.
The morning after the concert the bell rang and Barnum found, on
going to the door, a procession of children from the convent
which had received a large sum of money from Miss Lind. The
children were attended by ten or twelve priests in rich
vestments. They had come to see the songstress and to thank her
in person. But Jenny shrank from appearing before such a stately
deputation: "Tell them I cannot see them," she exclaimed. "They
have nothing to thank me for. If I have done good it was no more
than my duty." And the grand procession with its wreaths and
banners, were obliged to depart.
The same day, Vivalla called and brought her a basket of fruit.
With tears of joy, he called down every blessing on the head of
the benevolent lady. "I shall go back to Italy! I shall see my
brothers and sisters again!" he cried. Miss Lind had gone for a
drive, but Barnum promised to give her the fruit and the message.
As he was passing out the door he hesitated end said: "Mr.
Barnum, I should like so much to have the good lady see my dog
turn a wheel. It is very nice; he can spin very good; shall I
bring the dog and the wheel for her? She is such a good lady, I
wish to please her very much." Mr. Barnum told the grateful
fellow that Miss Lind had refused to see the priests from the
convent that morning, because she never received thanks for
favors, and that he was quite welcome to the money.
When Miss Lind returned and heard the story, she exclaimed: "Poor
man, poor man, do let him come; its all the good creature can do
for me;" then with tears rolling down her face--"I like that, I
like that; do let him come and bring his dog. It will make him so
happy."
"God bless you, it WILL make him happy," said Barnum. "He shall
come to-morrow." And he went himself to tell Vivalla that Jenny
Lind would see his dog perform, the next day at four precisely.
"I will be punctual," said Vivalla, quite overcome with emotion,
"but I was SURE she would like to see my dog perform."
For full half an hour before the time appointed did Jenny Lind
sit in her window on the second floor and watch for Vivalla and
his dog. A few minutes before the appointed hour, she saw him
coming. "Ah, here he comes! here he comes!" she exclaimed in
delight, as she ran down stairs and opened the door to admit him.
A negro boy was bringing the small spinning-wheel, while Vivalla
led the dog. Handing the boy a silver coin, she motioned him
away, and taking the wheel in her arms, she said, "This is very
kind of you to come with your dog. Follow me. I will carry the
wheel up stairs." Her servant offered to take the wheel, but no,
she would let no one carry it but herself. She called the whole
party to her parlor, and for one full hour did she devote herself
to the happy Italian. She went down on her knees to pet the dog
and to ask Vivalla all sorts of questions about his performances,
his former course of life, his friends in Italy, and his present
hopes and determinations. Then she sang and played for him, gave
him some refreshments, finally insisted on carrying his wheel to
the door, and her servant accompanied Vivalla to his
boarding-house.
Poor Vivalla! He was probably never so happy before, but his
enjoyment did not exceed that of Miss Lind. A few months later,
however, the Havana correspondent of the New York Herald
announced the death of Vivalla, and stated that the poor
Italian's last words were about Jenny Lind and Mr. Barnum.
In the party which accompanied Barnum to Havana was a man who had
formerly kept the Peale Museum in New York, afterwards managing
the establishment for Mr. Barnum. At present he was acting as
ticket-taker.
He was a curious fellow, at times full of fun and gayety and at
other times melancholy to the verge of insanity. Madness ran in
his family, and one of his brothers, in a moment of frenzy had
blown his brains out. Barnum knew of Bennett's tendency to
melancholy and watched him constantly. When they were on board
the steamer "Falcon" on their way back to New Orleans, a
thrilling incident occurred which Barnum afterwards related in
this way:
Mr. James Gordon Bennett, editor of the New York Herald, and his
wife, were also passengers. After permitting one favorable notice
in his paper, Bennett had turned around, as usual, and had abused
Jenny Lind and bitterly attacked me. I was always glad to get
such notices, for they served as inexpensive advertisements to my
museum.
"Ticket-taker Bennett, however, took much to heart the attacks of
Editor Bennett upon Jenny Lind. When Editor Bennett came on board
the 'Falcon,' his violent name-sake said to a by-stander:
" 'I would willingly be drowned if I could see that old scoundrel
go to the bottom of the sea.'
"Several of our party overheard the remark and I turned
laughingly to Bennett and said: Nonsense; he can't harm any one,
and there is an old proverb about the impossibility of drowning
those who are born for another fate.'
"That very night, however, as I stood near the cabin door,
conversing with my treasurer and other members of my company,
Henry Bennett came up to me with a wild air, and hoarsely
whispered:
" 'Old Bennett has gone forward alone in the dark--and I am going
to throw him overboard!'
"We were all startled, for we knew the man, and he seemed
terribly in earnest. Knowing how most effectively to address him
at such times, I exclaimed:
" 'Ridiculous! you would not do such a thing.'
" 'I swear I will,' was his savage reply. I expostulated with
him, and several of our party joined me.
" 'Nobody will know it,' muttered the maniac, 'and I shall be
doing the world a favor.'
"I endeavored to awaken him to a sense of the crime he
contemplated, assuring him that it could not possibly benefit any
one, and that from the fact of the relations existing between the
editor and myself, I should be the first to be accused of his
murder. I implored him to go to his stateroom, and he finally did
so, accompanied by some of the gentlemen of our party. I took
pains to see that he was carefully watched that night, and,
indeed, for several days, till he became calm again. He was a
large, athletic man, quite able to pick up his name-sake and drop
him overboard. The matter was too serious for a joke, and we made
little mention of it; but more than one of our party said then,
and has said since, what I really believe to be true, that 'James
Gordon Bennett would have been drowned that night had it not been
for P. T. Barnum.' "
Bennett's end was tragic, as might be expected. Sometime after
the Havana journey Barnum sent him to London. He conducted the
business successfully, wrote up the accounts to a penny, then
handing the papers to a mutual friend with directions to give
them to Barnum when he should arrive, he went to his lodgings and
committed suicide.
"In New Orleans the wharf was crowded by a great concourse of
persons, as the steamer "Falcon" approached. Jenny Lind had
enjoyed a month of quiet, and dreaded the excitement which she
must now again encounter.
"Mr Barnum, I am sure I can never get through that crowd," she
said in despair.
"Leave that to me. Remain quiet for ten minutes, and there shall
be no crowd here," replied Barnum.
Taking his daughter on his arm, she drew her vail over her face
and they descended the gangway.
"That's Barnum, I know him," called out several persons at the
top of their voices.
"Open the way, if you please for Mr. Barnum and Miss Lind!" cried
Le Grand Smith over the railing of the ship, the deck of which he
had just reached from the wharf.
"Don't crowd her, if you please, gentlemen," said Barnum, and so
pushing and squeezing they reached the carriage and drove to Miss
Lind's apartments. A few minutes later Jenny and her companion
came quietly in a carriage and were in the house before the ruse
was discovered. In answer to the calls of the crowd she appeared
on the balcony, and bowed to the throng, which gave her three
cheers and dispersed.
A very funny incident occurred in New Orleans. Next to the
theatre where the concerts were given, was an exhibition in the
large open lots of mammoth hogs, grizzly bears and other animals.
A gentleman had a son about twelve years old, who had a wonderful
ear for music. He could whistle or sing any tune after hearing it
once. His father did not know nor care for a single note, but so
anxious was he to please his son, that he paid thirty dollars for
two tickets to the concert.
"I liked the music better than I expected," said he the next day,
"but my son was in raptures. He was so perfectly enchanted that
he scarcely spoke the whole evening, and I would on no account
disturb his delightful reveries. When the concert was finished we
came out of the theatre. Not a word was spoken. I knew that my
musical prodigy was happy among the clouds, and I said nothing. I
could not help envying him his love of music, and considered my
thirty dollars as nothing, compared to the bliss which it secured
to him. Indeed, I was seriously thinking of taking him to the
next concert, when he spoke. We were just passing the numerous
shows upon the vacant lots. One of the signs attracted him, and
he said, 'Father, let us go in and see the big hog!' The little
scamp! I could have horse-whipped him!' said the father, who
loving a joke, could not help laughing at the ludicrous incident.
The party took passage to Cairo, Illinois, in the beautiful river
steamer "Magnolia." They had made arrangements with the captain
to delay in Natchez and in Memphis where concerts were given.
The time on board the steamer was pleasantly spent in reading and
watching the scenery. One day they had a musicale in the ladies'
cabin for the gratification of the passengers, at which Miss Lind
volunteered to sing. Barnum amused the passengers with his
inexhaustible fund of anecdotes and stories, and the tricks of
legerdemain, which he had learned and used in the South under
rather different circumstances. Among other tricks, he made a
silver piece disappear so mysteriously that the negro barber who
witnessed the feat, came to the conclusion that the great man
must be in league with the devil. "The next morning," says Mr.
Barnum, "I seated myself in the barber's chair and the darkey
began to talk:
" 'Beg pardon, Mr. Barnum, but I have heard a great deal about
you, and I saw more than I wanted to see last night. Is it true
that you have sold yourself to the devil, so that you can do what
you've a mind to?'
" 'Oh, yes," was my reply, 'that is the bargain between us.'
" 'How long did you agree for?' was the question next in order.
" 'Only nine years,' said I. 'I have had three of them already.
Before the other six are out, I shall find a way to nonplus the
old gentleman, and I have told him so to his face.'
"At this avowal, a larger space of white than usual was seen in
the darkey's eyes, and he inquired, 'Is it by this bargain that
you get so much money?'
" 'Certainly. No matter who has money, nor where he keeps it, in
his box or till, or anywhere about him, I have only to speak the
words and it comes.'
"The shaving was completed in silence, but thought had been busy
in the barber's mind, and he embraced the speediest opportunity
to transfer his bag of coin to the iron safe in charge of the
clerk.
The movement did not escape me, and immediately a joke was afoot.
I had barely time to make two or three details of arrangement
with the clerk, and resume my seat in the cabin, ere the barber
sought a second interview, bent on testing the alleged powers of
Beelzebub's colleague.
" 'Beg pardon, Mr. Barnum, but where is my money? Can you get
it?'
" 'I do not want your money,' was the quiet answer. 'It is safe.'
" 'Yes, I know it is safe--ha! ha!--it is in the iron safe in the
clerk's office--safe enough from you?'
" 'It is not in the iron safe!' said I. This was said so quietly,
yet positively, that the colored gentleman ran to the office, and
inquired if all was safe. 'All right,' said the clerk. 'Open, and
let me see,' replied the barber. The safe was unlocked and lo!
the money was gone!
"In mystified terror the loser applied to me for relief. 'You
will find the bag in your drawer,' said I, and there it was
found!
"His curiosity was still great. 'Please do another trick,' said
he.
" 'Very well,' I replied, 'stand perfectly still.'
"He did so, and I commenced muttering some mysterious words, as
if performing an incantation.
" 'What are you doing?' said the barber.
" 'I am changing you into a black cat,' I replied, 'but don't be
afraid; I will change you back again, if I don't forget the words
to do it with.'
"This was too much for the terrified darkey; with an awful
screech he rushed to the side of the boat resolved to drown
rather than undergo such a transformation.
"He was captured and brought back to me, when I dispelled his
fright by explaining the way in which I had tricked him. Relieved
and reassured, he clapped his hands and executed an impromtu jig,
exclaiming, 'Ha! ha! when I get back to New Orleans won't I come
de Barnum ober dem niggers!' "