CHAPTER XXII. A FEW SIDE ISSUES.

THE EXPEDITION TO CEYLON--HARNESSING AN ELEPHANT TO A

PLOW--BARNUM AND VANDERBILT--THE TALKING MACHINE--A FIRE AT

IRANISTAN--MOUNTAIN GROVE CEMETERY.

The great showman did not allow even so great an enterprise as

the Jenny Lind concerts to monopolize his attention. In 1849 he

planned the formation of a great travelling show, combining the

features of a museum, a menagerie and a circus. In this he

associated with himself Mr. Seth B. Howes, who was already a

noted and successful showman, and also Mr. Stratton, the father

of Tom Thumb. In order to procure a supply of novelties for this

show they chartered the ship "Regatta," and sent it from New York

in May, 1850, to Ceylon. The object of this voyage, was to

procure, either by purchase or by capture, a number of living

elephants and other wild animals. To make sure of a sufficient

supply of fodder for them, nearly a thousand tons of hay were

purchased in New York and taken out aboard the ship. Five hundred

tons of it were left at the Island of St. Helena, to be taken up

on the return trip, and a great supply of staves and hoops were

also left there for the construction of water casks.

This extraordinary mission was successful. In almost exactly a

year from the day of sailing the ship returned to New York. Its

novel cargo was unloaded, the ten elephants which had been

secured were harnessed in pairs to a gigantic chariot, and the

whole show paraded up Broadway past the Irving House. It was

reviewed from the window of that hotel by Jenny Lind, who was

stopping there on her second visit to New York. An elaborate

outfit of horses, wagons, tents, etc., was added, the whole

costing over $100,000, and then the show went on the road under

the nominal leadership of Tom Thumb. It was called, "Barnum's

Great Asiatic Caravan, Museum and Menagerie;" it travelled about

the country for four years, and yielded to its proprietors

enormous profits.

At the end of this tour Barnum sold out the entire establishment,

including animals, cages, chariots and everything else, excepting

one elephant. This huge brute he took to his farm at Bridgeport,

for advertising purposes. It occurred to him that if he should

keep the animal there for a time and put him to some novel use,

such as working on the farm, it would set people to talking and

greatly add to public curiosity and interest in his American

Museum.

He accordingly took the elephant to Bridgeport and put him in

charge of a competent keeper, who was dressed in a striking

Oriental costume. A six acre field close by the New York and New

Haven railroad track was set apart for their use. Barnum gave the

keeper a time-table of the road and directed him to make a point,

whenever trains were passing, always to be busily engaged with

the elephant at plowing or other agricultural work as close to

the track as possible. Of course the passengers noticed the

strange spectacle, items concerning it appeared in the

newspapers, extending even to the press of foreign lands, and

thousands of people came from all parts of the country to witness

the strange sight. Every mail brought numerous letters inquiring

about it. Many of these were from the officers of agricultural

societies in all parts of the United States, making serious and

earnest inquiry as to the utility of the elephant as an

agricultural animal. These letters were greatly diversified in

tone, but the substance of their inquires was about as follows:

1. "Is the elephant a profitable agricultural animal?"

2. "How much can an elephant plow in a day?"

3. "How much can he draw?"

4. "How much does he eat?"--this question was invariably asked,

and was a very important one.

5. "Will elephants make themselves generally useful on a farm?"

6. "What is the price of an elephant?"

7. "Where can elephants be purchased?"

Then would follow a score of other inquiries, such as, whether

elephants were easily managed; if they would quarrel with cattle;

if it was possible to breed them; how old calf elephants must be

before they would earn their own living; and so on indefinitely.

Barnum presently began to be alarmed lest some one should buy an

elephant and thus share the fate of the man who drew one in a

lottery and did not know what to do with him. "Accordingly," he

says, "I had a general letter printed, which I mailed to all my

anxious inquirers. It was headed 'strictly confidential,' and I

then stated, begging my correspondents 'not to mention it,' that

to me the elephant was a valuable agricultural animal, because he

was an excellent advertisement to my museum; but that to other

farmers he would prove very unprofitable for many reasons. In the

first place, such an animal would cost from $3,000 to $10,000; in

cold weather he could not work at all; in any weather he could

not earn half his living; he would eat up the value of his own

head, trunk and body every year; and I begged my correspondents

not to do so foolish a thing as to undertake elephant farming."

The result of this experiment in advertising was highly

successful. Newspaper correspondents sent highly colored accounts

of it all over the world, and numerous pictures of the elephant

harnessed to a plow appeared in the illustrated papers and

magazines. After the field had been plowed over fifty or sixty

times, Barnum concluded that the elephant had been "worked for

all he was worth," and sold him to Van Amburgh's menagerie.

In 1851 Mr. Barnum became a part owner of the steamship "North

America," which he proposed to run between America and Ireland as

a passenger and freight vessel. This idea was presently

abandoned, and the ship was sent around Cape Horn to San

Francisco and put into service on the Pacific Mail Line,

Commodore Cornelius Vanderbilt having purchased a one-half

interest in it and Mr. Barnum retaining one-third interest in the

remaining half. After she had made several trips Barnum called

upon Mr. Vanderbilt at his office and introduced himself. It was

their first meeting, and this is Barnum's own account of the

interview:

" 'Is it possible you are Barnum?' exclaimed the Commodore, in

surprise, 'why, I expected to see a monster, part lion, part

elephant, and a mixture of rhinoceros and tiger! Is it possible,'

he continued, 'that you are the showman who has made so much

noise in the world?'

"I laughingly replied that I was, and added that if I too had

been governed in my anticipation of his personal appearance by

the fame he had achieved in his line, I should have expected to

have been saluted by a steam whistle, and to have seen him

dressed in a pea jacket, blowing off steam, and crying out 'all

aboard that's going.'

" 'Instead of which,' replied Mr. Vanderbilt, 'I suppose you have

come to ask me to walk up to the Captain's office and settle.'

"After this interchange of civilities, we talked about the

success of the 'North America' in having got safely around the

Horn, and of the acceptable manner in which she was doing her

duty on the Pacific side.

" 'We have received no statement of her earnings yet,' said the

Commodore, 'but if you want money, give your receipt to our

treasurer, and take some.'

"A few months subsequent to this, I sold out my share in the

steamship to Mr. Daniel Drew."

Numerous smaller enterprises also marked this stage of Mr.

Barnum's career. Some of these were connected with his museum,

while others were entirely independent of it. Thus in 1844, in

Paris, besides purchasing Robt. Houdin's ingenius automatic

writer and other costly curiosities for the museum, he had made

at great expense, a huge panorama of the funeral of Napoleon

Bonaparte. This gigantic picture showed every event of that

pageant, beginning with the embarkation of the body at St. Helena

and ending with its final entombment at the Hotel des Invalides.

This exhibition, after having had its day at the American Museum,

was sold, and extensively and profitably exhibited elsewhere.

While Barnum was in London, during the same year, he engaged a

company of "Campanalogians, or Lancashire Bell Ringers," then

performing in Ireland, to make an American tour. They were really

admirable performers, and by means of their numerous bells of

various sizes, they produced the most delightful music. They

attracted much attention in various parts of the United States,

in Canada, and in Cuba.

After the loss of the bell ringers to the English public Barnum

secured and sent thither a party of sixteen North American

Indians, who were widely exhibited. On his return to America

after his first visit to Europe he engaged an ingenious workman

to construct an automatic orator. This was a life-size and

remarkably life-like figure, and when worked from a key-board

similar to that of a piano it actually uttered words and

sentences with surprising distinctness. It was exhibited for

several months in London and elsewhere in England, but though it

was really a wonderful machine and attracted the earnest

attention of some people, it was not a popular success. The Duke

of Wellington visited it several times, and at first he thought

that the "voice" proceeded from the exhibiter, whom he assumed to

be a skilful ventriloquist. He was asked to touch the keys with

his own fingers, and, after some instruction in the method of

operating, he was able to make the machine speak, not only in

English but also in German, with which language the Duke seemed

familiar. Thereafter, he entered his name on the exhibiter's

autograph book, and certified that the "Automaton Speaker" was an

extraordinary production of mechanical genius.

Barnum also secured duplicates of the models of machinery

exhibited at the Royal Polytechnic Institution in London and a

great many interesting panoramas and pictures. These were all

exhibited at his museum in New York and afterwards sold to other

travelling showmen who exhibited them throughout the country. In

the summer of 1850 he added to the museum his famous Chinese

collection, including a Chinese family of two men, two "small

footed" women, and two children.

Few of his curiosities attracted more attention than the

performances of the "Scotch Boys." One of these was securely

blindfolded, and then, in answer to questions put by the other,

accurately described any objects presented by persons who

attended the surprising exhibition. The mystery, which was merely

the result of patient practice, consisted wholly in the manner in

which the question was propounded; in fact, the question

invariably carried its own answer; for instance:

"What is this?" meant gold; "Now what is this?" silver; "Say,

what is this?" copper; "Tell me what this is?" iron; "What is the

shape?" long; "Now, what shape?" round; "Say what shape?" square;

"Please say what this is," a watch; "Can you tell what is in this

lady's hand?" a purse; "Now, please say what this is?" a key;

"Come now, what is this?" money; "How much?" a penny; "Now, how

much?" sixpence; "Say how much," a quarter of a dollar; "What

color is this?" black; "Now, what color is this?" red; "Say what

color?" green; and so on, ad infinitum. To such perfection was

this brought that it was almost impossible to present any object

that could not be quite closely described by the blindfolded boy.

In 1850, the celebrated Bateman children acted for several weeks

at the American Museum, and in June of that year Barnum sent them

to London with their father and Mr. Le Grand Smith, where they

played in the St. James Theatre, and afterwards in the principal

provincial theatres. The elder of these children, Miss Kate

Bateman, subsequently attained the highest histrionic distinction

in America and abroad, and reached the head of her profession.

Miss Catharine Hayes and Herr Begnis were engaged by Barnum in

the fall of 1852 to give a series of sixty concerts in

California, and the enterprise proved highly profitable, although

Mr. Barnum intrusted its execution to his agents, not caring

himself to travel so far. Before she set out for California Miss

Hayes, with her mother and sister, spent several days at

Iranistan to attend the marriage of Barnum's eldest daughter,

Caroline, to Mr. David W. Thompson.

The wedding was to take place in the evening, and on the

afternoon of that day Mr. Barnum went to Bridgeport to get shaved

for the occasion. While he was lying in the barber's chair, half

of his face shaved and the other half covered with lather, his

prospective son-in-law, Mr. Thompson, drove up to the door of the

shop and rushed in, exclaiming excitedly, "Mr. Barnum, Iranistan

is in flames!" Barnum jumped up from the chair and, half shaved

and with the lather still on his face, jumped into the wagon and

started for home with the horse on a run. "I was greatly

alarmed," he afterward said, "for the house was full of visitors

who had come from a distance to attend the wedding, and all the

costly presents, dresses, refreshments, and everything prepared

for a marriage celebration to which nearly a thousand guests had

been invited, were already in my house. Mr. Thompson told me he

had seen the flames bursting from the roof, and it seemed to me

that there was little hope of saving the building.

"My mind was distressed, not so much at the great pecuniary loss

which the destruction of Iranistan would involve, as at the

possibility that some of my family or visitors would be killed or

seriously injured in attempting to save something from the fire.

Then I thought of the sore disappointment this calamity would

cause to the young couple, as well as to those who were invited

to the wedding. I saw that Mr. Thompson looked pale and anxious.

" 'Never mind!' said I; 'we can't help these things; the house

will probably be burned; but if no one is killed or injured, you

shall be married to-night, if we are obliged to perform the

ceremony in the coach-house.'

"On our way, we overtook a fire company, and I implored them to

'hurry up their machine.' Arriving in sight of Iranistan, we saw

huge volumes of smoke rolling out from the roof and many men on

the top of the house were passing buckets of water to pour upon

the fire. Fortunately, several men had been engaged during the

day in repairing the roof, and their ladders were against the

house. By these means and with the assistance of the men employed

upon my grounds, water was passed very rapidly, and the flames

were soon subdued without serious damage. The inmates of

Iranistan were thoroughly frightened; Catherine Hayes and other

visitors, packed their trunks and had them carried out on the

lawn; and the house came as near destruction as it well could and

escape."

While Miss Hayes was at Bridgeport she gave, at Barnum's request,

a concert for the benefit of "Mountain Grove Cemetery," and the

large proceeds were devoted to the erection of the stone tower

and gateway that now adorn the entrance to that beautiful resting

place of the dead. Barnum had bought the eighty acres of land for

this cemetery a few years before from several farmers. He had

been in the habit of tramping over it, gunning, and while thus

engaged, had observed its admirable fitness for the purposes of a

cemetery. After the title deeds for the property were secured, it

was offered for a cemetery, and at a meeting of citizens, several

lots were subscribed for. enough. indeed, to cover the amount of

the purchase money. Thus was begun the "Mountain Grove Cemetery,"

which is now beautifully laid out and adorned with many tasteful

and costly monuments. Among these are Barnum's own substantial

granite monument, the family monuments of Harral, Bishop,

Hubbell, Lyon, Wood, Loomis, Wordin, Hyde, and others, and

General Tom Thumb erected a tall marble shaft which is surmounted

by a life-size statue of himself. There is no more charming

burial-ground in the whole country; yet when the project was

suggested, many persons preferred an intermural cemetery to this

rural resting-place for their departed friends; though now all

concur in considering it fortunate that this adjunct was secured

to Bridgeport before the land could be permanently devoted to

other purposes.

Mr. Dion Boucicault also lectured at Bridgeport for the benefit

of this cemetery and Tom Thumb gave an entertainment for the same

object. At Barnum's request and under his management, Tom Thumb

and his wife, and Commodore Nutt and his wife, gave several

exhibitions and entertainments for the benefit of the Bridgeport

Charitable Society, the Bridgeport Library, and other local

institutions.

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