HOW BARNUM RECEIVED THE TIDINGS--HUMOROUS DESCRIPTION OF THE
FIRE--A PUBLIC CALAMITY--GREELEY'S ADVICE--INTENTION TO
RE-ESTABLISH THE MUSEUM--SPEECH AT EMPLOYEES' BENEFIT.
On the 13th day of July, 1865, when Barnum was speaking in the
Legislature at Hartford, against the railroad schemes, a telegram
was handed him from his son-in-law and assistant manager in New
York, S. H. Hurd, saying that the American Museum was in flames
and its total destruction certain.
Barnum glanced at the dispatch, folded and laid it in his desk,
and went calmly on with his speech. At the conclusion of his
remarks, the bill which he was advocating was voted upon and
carried, and the House adjourned.
Not until then did Barnum hand the telegram to his friend,
William G. Coe, of Winsted, who immediately communicated the
intelligence to several members.
Warm sympathizers at once crowded around him, and one of his
strongest opponents pushing forward, seized his hand, and said:
"Mr. Barnum, I am truly sorry to hear of your great misfortune."
"Sorry," replied Barnum; "why, my dear sir, I shall not have time
to be sorry in a week! It will take me at least that length of
time before I can get over laughing at having whipped you all so
nicely on that bill."
But he did find time to be sorry when, next day, he went to New
York and saw nothing of what had been the American Museum but a
smouldering mass of debris.
Here was destroyed, in a few hours, the result of many years'
toil in accumulating from every part of the world myriads of
curious productions of nature and art--a collection which a half
a million of dollars and a quarter of a century could not
restore.
In addition to these, there were many Revolutionary relics and
other articles of historical interest that could never be
duplicated. Not a thousand dollars worth of property was saved;
the loss was irreparable, and the insurance was only forty
thousand dollars.
The fire probably originated in the engine-room, where steam was
constantly kept up to pump fresh air into the waters of the
aquaria and to propel the immense fans for cooling the atmosphere
of the rooms.
All the New York newspapers made a great "sensation" of the fire,
and the full particulars were copied in journals throughout the
country. A facetious reporter; Mr. Nathan D. Urner, of the
Tribune, wrote the following amusing account, which appeared in
that journal, July 14, 1865, and was very generally quoted from
and copied by provincial papers, many of whose readers accepted
every line of the glowing narrative as "gospel truth":
"Soon after the breaking out of the conflagration, a number of
strange and terrible howls and moans proceeding from the large
apartment in the third floor of the Museum, corner of Ann street
and Broadway, startled the throngs who had collected in front of
the burning building, and who were at first under the impression
that the sounds must proceed from human beings unable to effect
their escape. Their anxiety was somewhat relieved on this score,
but their consternation was by no means decreased upon learning
that the room in question was the principal chamber of the
menagerie connected with the Museum, and that there was imminent
danger of the release of the animals there confined, by the
action of the flames. Our reporter fortunately occupied a room on
the north corner of Ann street and Broadway, the windows of which
looked immediately into this apartment; and no sooner was he
apprised of the fire than he repaired there, confident of finding
items in abundance. Luckily the windows of the Museum were
unclosed, and he had a perfect view of almost the entire interior
of the apartment. The following is his statement of what
followed, in his own language.
"Protecting myself from the intense heat as well as I could by
taking the mattress from the bed and erecting it as a bulwark
before the window, with only enough space reserved on the top so
as to look out, I anxiously observed the animals in the opposite
room. Immediately opposite the window through which I gazed was a
large cage containing a lion and lioness. To the right hand was
the three-storied cage, containing monkeys at the top, two
kangaroos in the second story, and a happy family of cats, rats,
adders, rabbits, etc., in the lower apartment. To the left of the
lions' cage was the tank containing the two vast alligators, and
still further to the left, partially hidden from my sight, was
the grand tank containing the great white whale, which has
created such a furore in our sightseeing midst for the past few
weeks. Upon the floor were caged the boa-constrictor, anacondas
and rattlesnakes, whose heads would now and then rise menacingly
through the top of the cage. In the extreme right was the cage,
entirely shut from my view at first, containing the Bengal tiger
and the Polar bear, whose terrific growls could be distinctly
heard from behind the partition. With a simultaneous bound the
lion and his mate sprang against the bars, which gave way and
came down with a great crash, releasing the beasts, which for a
moment, apparently amazed at their sudden liberty, stood in the
middle of the floor lashing their sides with their tails and
roaring dolefully.
"Almost at the same moment the upper part of the three-storied
cage, consumed by the flames, fell forward, letting the rods drop
to the floor, and many other animals were set free. Just at this
time the door fell through and the flames and smoke rolled in
like a whirlwind from the Hadean river Cocytus. A horrible scene
in the right-hand corner of the room, a yell of indescribable
agony, and a crashing, grating sound, indicated that the tiger
and Polar bear were stirred up to the highest pitch of
excitement. Then there came a great crash, as of the giving way
of the bars of their cage. The flames and smoke momentarily
rolled back, and for a few seconds the interior of the room was
visible in the lurid light of the flames, which revealed the
tiger and the lion, locked together in close combat.
"The monkeys were perched around the windows, shivering with
dread, and afraid to jump out. The snakes were writhing about,
crippled and blistered by the heat, darting out their forked
tongues, and expressing their rage and fear in the most sibilant
of hisses. The 'Happy Family' were experiencing an amount of
beatitude which was evidently too cordial for philosophical
enjoyment. A long tongue of flame had crept under the cage,
completely singing every hair from the cat's body. The felicitous
adder was slowly burning in two and busily engaged in
impregnating his organic system with his own venom. The joyful
rat had lost his tail by a falling bar of iron; and the beatific
rabbit, perforated by a red-hot nail, looked as if nothing would
be more grateful than a cool corner in some Esquimaux farm-yard.
The members of the delectated convocation were all huddled
together in the bottom of their cage, which suddenly gave way,
precipitating them out of view in the depths below, which by this
time were also blazing like the fabled Tophet.
"At this moment the flames rolled again into the room, and then
again retired. The whale and alligators were by this time
suffering dreadful torments. The water in which they swam was
literally boiling. The alligators dashed fiercely about,
endeavoring to escape, and opening and shutting their great jaws
in ferocious torture; but the poor whale, almost boiled, with
great ulcers bursting from his blubbery sides, could only feebly
swim about, though blowing excessively, and every now and then
sending up great fountains of spray. At length, crack went the
glass sides of the great cases, and whale and alligators rolled
out on the floor with the rushing and steaming water. The whale
died easily, having been pretty well used up before. A few great
gasps and a convulsive flap or two of his mighty flukes were his
expiring spasm. One of the alligators was killed almost
immediately by falling across a great fragment of shattered
glass, which cut open his stomach and let out the greater part of
his entrails to the light of day. The remaining alligator became
involved in a controversy with an anaconda, and joined the melee
in the centre of the flaming apartment.
"A number of birds which were caged in the upper part of the
building were set free by some charitably inclined person at the
first alarm of fire, and at intervals they flew out. There were
many valuable tropical birds, parrots, cockatoos, mockingbirds,
humming-birds, etc., as well as some vultures and eagles, and one
condor. Great excitement existed among the swaying crowds in the
streets below as they took wing. There were confined in the same
room a few serpents, which also obtained their liberty; and soon
after the rising and devouring flames began to enwrap the entire
building, a splendid and emblematic sight was presented to the
wondering and upgazing throngs. Bursting through the central
casement, with flap of wings and lashing coils, appeared an eagle
and a serpent wreathed in fight. For a moment they hung poised in
mid-air, presenting a novel and terrible conflict. It was the
earth and air (or their respective representatives) at war for
mastery; the base and the lofty, the groveller and the soarer,
were engaged in deadly battle. At length the flat head of the
serpent sank; his writhing, sinuous form grew still; and wafted
upward by the cheers of the gazing multitude, the eagle, with a
scream of triumph, and bearing his prey in his iron talons,
soared towards the sun. Several monkeys escaped from the burning
building to the neighboring roofs and streets; and considerable
excitement was caused by the attempts to secure them. One of the
most amusing incidents in this respect, was in connection with
Mr. James Gordon Bennett. The veteran editor of the Herald was
sitting in his private office, with his back to the open window,
calmly discussing with a friend the chances that the Herald
establishment would escape the conflagration, which at that time
was threateningly advancing up Ann street towards Nassau street.
In the course of his conversation, Mr. Bennett observed:
'Although I have usually had good luck in cases of fire, they say
that the devil is ever at one's shoulder, and'--here an
exclamation from his friend interrupted him, and turning quickly
he was considerably taken aback at seeing the devil himself, or
something like him, at his very shoulder as he spoke. Recovering
his equanimity, with the ease and suavity which is usual with him
in all company, Mr. Bennett was about to address the intruder,
when he perceived that what he had taken for the gentleman in
black was nothing more than a frightened orang-outang. The poor
creature, but recently released from captivity, and doubtless
thinking that he might fill some vacancy in the editorial corps
of the paper in question, had descended by the water-pipe and
instinctively taken refuge in the inner sanctum of the
establishment. Although the editor--perhaps from the fact that he
saw nothing peculiarly strange in the visitation--soon regained
his composure, it was far otherwise with his friend, who
immediately gave the alarm. Mr. Hudson rushed in and boldly
attacked the monkey, grasping him by the throat. The book-editor
next came in, obtaining a clutch upon the brute by the ears; the
musical critic followed and seized the tail with both hands, and
a number of reporters, armed with inkstands and sharpened
pencils, came next, followed by a dozen policemen with brandished
clubs; at the same time, the engineer in the basement received
the preconcerted signal and got ready his hose, wherewith to pour
boiling hot water upon the heads of, those in the streets, in
case it should prove a regular systematized attack by gorillas,
Brazil apes, and chimpanzees. Opposed to this formidable
combination the rash intruder fared badly, and was soon in
durance vile. Numerous other incidents of a similar kind
occurred; but some of the most amusing were in connection with
the wax figures.
"Upon the same impulse which prompts men in time of fire to fling
valuable looking-glasses out of three-story windows, and at the
same time tenderly to lower down feather beds--soon after the
Museum took fire, a number of sturdy firemen rushed into the
building to carry out the wax figures. There were thousands of
valuable articles which might have been saved if there had been
less of solicitude displayed for the miserable effigies which are
usually exhibited under the appellation of 'wax figures.' As it
was, a dozen firemen rushed into the apartment where the figures
were kept, amid a multitude of crawling snakes, chattering
monkeys and escaped paroquets. The 'Dying Brigand' was
unceremoniously throttled and dragged towards the door; liberties
were taken with the tearful 'Senorita' who has so long knelt and
so constantly wagged her doll's head at his side; the mules of
the other bandits were upset, and they themselves roughly seized.
The full-length statue of P. T. Barnum fell down of its own
accord, as if disgusted with the whole affair. A red-shined
fireman seized with either hand Franklin Pierce and James
Buchanan by their coat-collars, tucked the Prince Imperial of
France under one arm and the Veiled Murderess under the other,
and coolly departed for the street. Two ragged boys quarreled
over the Tom Thumb, but at length settled the controversy by one
of them taking the head, the other satisfying himself with the
legs below the knees. They evidently had Tom under their thumbs,
and intended to keep him down. While the curiosity-seeking
policeman was garroting Benjamin Franklin, with the idea of
abducting him, a small monkey, flung from the windowsill by the
strong hand of an impatient fireman, made a straight dive,
hitting Poor Richard just below the waistcoat, and passing
through his stomach, as fairly as the Harlequin in the 'Green
Monster' pantomime ever pierced the picture with the slit in it,
which always hangs so conveniently low and near. Patrick Henry
had his teeth knocked out by a flying missile, and in carrying
Daniel Lambert down stairs, he was found to be so large that they
had to break off his head in order to get him through the door.
At length the heat became intense, the 'figgers' began to
perspire freely, and the swiftly approaching flames compelled all
hands to desist from any further attempt at rescue. Throwing a
parting glance behind as we passed down the stairs, we saw the
remaining dignitaries in a strange plight. Some one had stuck a
cigar in General Washington's mouth, and thus, with his chapeau
crushed down over his eyes and his head leaning upon the ample
lap of Moll Pitcher, the Father of his Country led the van of as
sorry a band of patriots as not often comes within one's
experience to see. General Marion was playing a dummy game of
poker with General Lafayette; Governor Morris was having a set-to
with Nathan Lane, and James Madison was executing a Dutch polka
with Madam Roland on one arm and Luicretia Borgia on the other.
The next moment the advancing flames compelled us to retire.
"We believe that all the living curiosities were saved; but the
giant girl, Anna Swan, was only rescued with the utmost
difficulty. There was not a door through which her bulky frame
could obtain a passage. It was likewise feared that the stairs
would break down, even if she should reach them. Her best friend,
the living skeleton, stood by her as long as he dared, but then
deserted her, while, as the heat grew in intensity, the
perspiration rolled from her face in little brooks and rivulets,
which pattered musically upon the floor. At length, as a last
resort, the employees of the place procured a lofty derrick which
fortunately happened to be standing near, and erected it
alongside of the Museum. A portion of the wall was then broken
off on each side of the window, the strong tackle was got in
readiness, the tall woman was made fast to one end and swung over
the heads of the people in the street, with eighteen men grasping
the other extremity of the line, and lowered down from the third
story, amid enthusiastic applause. A carriage of extraordinary
capacity was in readiness, and, entering this, the young lady was
driven away to a hotel.
"When the surviving serpents, that were released by the partial
burning of the box in which they were contained, crept along on
the floor to the balcony of the Museum and dropped on the
sidewalk, the crowd, seized with St. Patrick's aversion to the
reptiles, fled with such precipitate haste that they knocked each
other down and trampled on one another in the most reckless and
damaging manner.
"Hats were lost, coats torn, boots burst and pantaloons dropped
with magnificent miscellaneousness, and dozens of those who rose
from the miry streets into which they had been thrown looked like
the disembodied spirits of a mud bank. The snakes crawled on the
sidewalk and into Broadway, where some of them died from injuries
received, and others were dispatched by the excited populace.
Several of the serpents of the copper-head species escaped the
fury of the tumultuous masses, and, true to their instincts,
sought shelter in the World and News offices. A large black bear
escaped from the burning Museum into Ann street, and then made
his way into Nassau, and down that thoroughfare into Wall, where
his appearance caused a sensation. Some superstitious persons
believed him the spirit of a departed Ursa Major, and others of
his fraternity welcomed the animal as a favorable omen. The bear
walked quietly along to the Custom House, ascended the steps of
the building, and became bewildered, as many a biped bear has
done before him. He seemed to lose his sense of vision, and, no
doubt, endeavoring to operate for a fall, walked over the side of
the steps and broke his neck. He succeeded in his object, but it
cost him dearly. The appearance of Bruin in the street sensibly
affected the stock market, and shares fell rapidly; but when he
lost his life in the careless manner we have described, shares
advanced again, and the Bulls triumphed once more.
"Broadway and its crossings have not witnessed a denser throng
for months than assembled at the fire yesterday. Barnum's was
always popular, but it never drew so vast a crowd before. There
must have been forty thousand people on Broadway, between Maiden
Lane and Chambers street, and a great portion stayed there until
dusk. So great was the concourse of people that it was with
difficulty pedestrians or vehicles could pass.
"After the fire several high-art epicures, groping among the
ruins, found choice morsels of boiled whale, roasted kangaroo and
fricasseed crocodile, which, it is said, they relished; though
the many would have failed to appreciate such rare edibles.
Probably the recherche epicures will declare the only true way to
prepare those meats is to cook them in a Museum wrapped in
flames, in the same manner that the Chinese, according to Charles
Lamb, first discovered roast pig in a burning house, and ever
afterward set a house on fire with a pig inside, when they wanted
that particular food."
All the New York journals, and many more in other cities,
editorially expressed their sympathy with the misfortune, and
their sense of the loss the community had sustained in the
destruction of the American Museum. The following editorial is
from the New York Tribune of July 14, 1865:
"The destruction of no building in this city could have caused so
much excitement and so much regret as that of Barnum's Museum.
The collection of curiosities was very large, and though many of
them may not have had much intrinsic or memorial value, a
considerable portion was certainly of great worth for any Museum.
But aside from this, pleasant memories clustered about the place,
which for so many years has been the chief resort for amusement
to the common people who cannot often afford to treat themselves
to a night at the more expensive theatres, while to the children
of the city, Barnum's has been a fountain of delight, ever
offering new attractions as captivating and as implicitly
believed in as the Arabian Nights Entertainments: Theatre,
Menagerie and Museum, it amused, instructed, and astonished. If
its thousands and tens of thousands of annual visitors were
bewildered sometimes with a Wooly Horse, a What is It? or a
Mermaid, they found repose and certainty in a Giraffe, a Whale or
a Rhinoceros. If wax effigies of pirates and murderers made them
shudder lest those dreadful figures should start out of their
glass cases and repeat their horrid deeds, they were reassured by
the presence of the mildest and most amiable of giants, and the
fattest of mortal women, whose dead weight alone could crush all
the wax figures into their original cakes. It was a source of
unfailing interest to all country visitors, and New York to many
of them was only the place that held Barnum's Museum. It was the
first thing--often the only thing--they visited when they came
among us, and nothing that could have been contrived, out of our
present resources, could have offered so many attractions, unless
some more ingenious showman had undertaken to add to Barnum's
collection of waxen criminals by putting in a cage the live
Boards of the Common Council. We mourn its loss, but not as
without consolation. Barnum's Museum is gone, but Barnum himself,
happily, did not share the fate of his rattlesnakes and his, at
least, most "un-Happy Family." There are fishes in the seas and
beasts in the forest; birds still fly in the air, and strange
creatures still roam in the deserts; giants and pigmies still
wander up and down the earth; the oldest man, the fattest woman,
and the smallest baby are still living, and Barnum will find
them.
"Or even if none of these things or creatures existed, we could
trust to Barnum to make them out of hand. The Museum, then, is
only a temporary loss, and much as we sympathize with the
proprietor, the public may trust to his well-known ability and
energy to soon renew a place of amusement which was a source of
so much innocent pleasure, and had in it so many elements of
solid excellence."
As already stated, Mr. Barnum's insurance was but forty thousand
dollars while the loss was fully four hundred thousand, and as
his premium was five per cent., he had already paid the insurance
companies more than they returned to him.
His first impulse, on reckoning up his losses, was to retire from
active life and all business occupations, beyond what his real
estate interests in Bridgeport and New York would compel. He went
to his old friend, Horace Greeley, and asked for advice on the
subject.
"Accept this fire as a notice to quit, and go a-fishing," said
Mr. Greeley.
"What?" exclaimed Barnum.
"Yes, go a-fishing," replied Greeley. "Why, I have been wanting
to go for thirty years, and have never yet found time to do so."
And but for two considerations Barnum might have taken this
advice. One hundred and fifty employees were thrown out of work
at a season when it would have been difficult to get anything
else to do. That was the most important consideration. Then, too,
Barnum felt that a large city like New York needed a good Museum,
and that his experience of a quarter of a century in that
direction afforded the greatest facilities for founding another
establishment of the kind. So he took a few days for reflection.
The Museum employees were tendered a benefit at the Academy of
Music, at which most of the dramatic artists in the city gave
their services. At the conclusion Barnum was called for, and made
a brilliant speech, in which he announced that he had decided to
establish another Museum, and that, in order to give present
occupation to his employees, he had engaged the Winter Garden
Theatre for a few weeks, his new establishment promising to be
ready by fall.
The New York Sun commented on the speech as follows:
"One of the happiest impromptu oratorical efforts that we have
heard for some time was that made by Barnum at the benefit
performance given for his employees on Friday afternoon. If a
stranger wanted to satisfy himself how the great showman had
managed so to monopolize the ear and eye of the public during his
long career, he could not have had a better opportunity of doing
so than by listening to this address. Every word, though
delivered with apparent carelessness, struck a key-note in the
hearts of his listeners. Simple, forcible and touching, it showed
how thoroughly this extraordinary man comprehends the character
of his countrymen, and how easily he can play upon their
feelings.
"Those who look upon Barnum as a mere charlatan, have really no
knowledge of him. It would be easy to demonstrate that the
qualities that have placed him in his present position of
notoriety and affluence would, in another pursuit, have raised
him to far greater eminence. In his breadth of views, his
profound knowledge of mankind, his courage under reverses, his
indomitable perseverance, his ready eloquence and his admirable
business tact, we recognize the elements that are conducive to
success in most other pursuits. More than almost any other living
man, Barnum may be said to be a representative type of the
American mind."