JENNY LIND.
ARRIVAL AT ST. LOUIS--SURPRISING PROPOSITION OF MISS LIND’S
SECRETARY--HOW THE MANAGER MANAGED--READINESS TO CANCEL THE
CONTRACT--CONSULTATION WITH “UNCLE SOL.”--BARNUM NOT TO BE HIRED--A
“JOKE”--TEMPERANCE LECTURE IN THE THEATRE--SOL. SMITH--A COMEDIAN,
AUTHOR, AND LAWYER--UNIQUE DEDICATION--JENNY LIND’S CHARACTER AND
CHARITIES--SHARP WORDS FROM THE WEST--SELFISH ADVISERS--MISS LIND’S
GENEROUS IMPULSES--HER SIMPLE AND CHILDLIKE CHARACTER--CONFESSIONS
OF A MANAGER--PRIVATE REPUTATION AND PUBLIC RENOWN--CHARACTER AS A
STOCK IN TRADE--LE GRAND SMITH--MR. DOLBY--THE ANGELIC SIDE KEPT
OUTSIDE--MY OWN SHARE IN THE PUBLIC BENEFITS--JUSTICE TO MISS LIND
AND MYSELF.
According to agreement, the “Magnolia” waited for us at Natchez and
Memphis, and we gave profitable concerts at both places. The concert at
Memphis was the sixtieth in the list since Miss Lind’s arrival in
America, and the first concert in St. Louis would be the sixty-first.
When we reached that city, on the morning of the day when our first
concert was to be given, Miss Lind’s secretary came to me, commissioned,
he said, by her, and announced that as sixty concerts had already taken
place, she proposed to avail herself of one of the conditions of our
contract, and cancel the engagement next morning. As this was the first
intimation of the kind I had received, I was somewhat startled, though I
assumed an entirely placid demeanor, and asked:
“Does Miss Lind authorize you to give me this notice?”
“I so understand it,” was the reply.
I immediately reflected that if our contract was thus suddenly
cancelled, Miss Lind was bound to repay to me all I had paid her over
the stipulated $1,000 for each concert, and a little calculation showed
that the sum thus to be paid back was $77,000, since she had already
received from me $137,000 for sixty concerts. In this view, I could not
but think that this was a ruse of some of her advisers, and, possibly,
that she might know nothing of the matter. So I told her secretary that
I would see him again in an hour, and meanwhile I went to my old friend
Mr. Sol. Smith for his legal and friendly advice.
I showed him my contract and told him how much I had been annoyed by the
selfish and greedy hangers-on and advisers, legal and otherwise, of
Jenny Lind. I talked to him about the “wheels within wheels” which moved
this great musical enterprise, and asked and gladly accepted his advice,
which mainly coincided with my own views of the situation. I then went
back to the secretary and quietly told him that I was ready to settle
with Miss Lind and to close the engagement.
“But,” said he, manifestly “taken aback,” “you have already advertised
concerts in Louisville and Cincinnati, I believe.”
“Yes,” I replied; “but you may take my contracts for halls and printing
off my hands at cost.” I further said that he was welcome to the
assistance of my agent who had made these arrangements, and, moreover,
that I would cheerfully give my own services to help them through with
these concerts, thus giving them a good start “on their own hook.”
My liberality, which he acknowledged, emboldened him to make an
extraordinary proposition:
“Now suppose,” he asked, “Miss Lind should wish to give some fifty
concerts in this country, what would you charge as manager, per
concert?”
“A million dollars each, not one cent less,” I replied. I was now
thoroughly aroused; the whole thing was as clear as daylight, and I
continued:
“Now we might as well understand each other; I don’t believe Miss Lind
has authorized you to propose to me to cancel our contract; but if she
has, just bring me a line to that effect over her signature and her
check for the amount due me by the terms of that contract, some $77,000,
and we will close our business connections at once.”
“But why not make a new arrangement,” persisted the Secretary, “for
fifty concerts more, by which Miss Lind shall pay you liberally, say
$1,000 per concert?”
“Simply because I hired Miss Lind, and not she me,” I replied, “and
because I never ought to take a farthing less for my risk and trouble
than the contract gives me. I have voluntarily paid Miss Lind more than
twice as much as I originally contracted to pay her, or as she expected
to receive when she first engaged with me. Now, if she is not satisfied,
I wish to settle instantly and finally. If you do not bring me her
decision to-day, I shall go to her for it to-morrow morning.”
I met the secretary soon after breakfast next morning and asked him if
he had a written communication for me from Miss Lind? He said he had not
and that the whole thing was a “joke.” He merely wanted, he added, to
see what I would say to the proposition. I asked him if Miss Lind was
in the “joke,” as he called it? He hoped I would not inquire, but would
let the matter drop. I went on, as usual, and gave four more concerts in
St. Louis, and followed out my programme as arranged in other cities for
many weeks following; nor at that time, nor at any time afterwards, did
Miss Lind give me the slightest intimation that she had any knowledge of
the proposition of her secretary to cancel our agreement or to employ me
as her manager.
During our stay at St. Louis, I delivered a temperance lecture in the
theatre, and at the close, among other signers, of the pledge, was my
friend and adviser, Sol. Smith. “Uncle Sol,” as every one called him,
was a famous character in his time. He was an excellent comedian, an
author, a manager and a lawyer. For a considerable period of his life,
he was largely concerned in theatricals in St. Louis, New Orleans and
other cities, and acquired a handsome property. He died at a ripe old
age, in 1869, respected and lamented by all who knew him. I esteem it an
honor to have been one of his intimate friends.
A year or two before he died, he published a very interesting volume,
giving a full account of the leading incidents in his long and varied
career as an actor and manager. He had previously, in 1854, published an
autobiographical work, comprising an account of the “second seven years
of his professional life,” together with sketches of adventure in after
years, and entitled “The Theatrical Journey-Work and Anecdotical
Recollections of Sol. Smith, Comedian, Attorney at Law,” etc. This
unique work was preceded by a dedication which I venture to copy. It was
as follows:
“TO PHINEAS T. BARNUM, PROPRIETOR OF THE AMERICAN MUSEUM, ETC.
“_Great Impressario_: Whilst you were engaged in your grand Jenny Lind
speculation, the following conundrum went the rounds of the American
newspapers:
“‘Why is it that Jenny Lind and Barnum will never fall out?’ Answer:
‘Because he is always for-getting, and she is always for-giving.’
“I have never asked you the question directly, whether you, Mr. Barnum,
started that conundrum, or not; but I strongly suspect that you did. At
all events, I noticed that your whole policy was concentrated into one
idea--to make an angel of Jenny, and depreciate yourself in contrast.
“You may remember that in this city (St. Louis), I acted in one instance
as your ‘legal adviser,’ and as such, necessarily became acquainted with
all the particulars of your contract with the so-called Swedish
Nightingale, as well as the various modifications claimed by that
charitable lady, and submitted to by you after her arrival in this
country; which modifications (I suppose it need no longer be a secret)
secured to her--besides the original stipulation of one thousand dollars
for every concert, attendants, carriages, assistant artists, and a
pompous and extravagant retinue, fit (only) for a European princess--one
half of the profits of each performance. You may also remember the legal
advice I gave you on the occasion referred to, and the salutary effect
of your following it. You must remember the extravagant joy you felt
afterwards, in Philadelphia, when the ‘Angel’ made up her mind to avail
herself of one of the stipulations in her contract, to break off at the
end of a hundred nights, and even bought out seven of that
hundred--supposing that she could go on without your aid as well as with
it. And you cannot but remember, how, like a rocket-stick she dropped,
when your business connection with her ended, and how she ‘fizzed out’
the remainder of her concert nights in this part of the world, and soon
afterwards retired to her domestic blissitude in Sweden.
“You know, Mr. Barnum, if you would only tell, which of the two it was
that was ‘for-getting,’ and which ‘for-giving’; and you also know who
actually gave the larger portion of those sums which you heralded to the
world as the sole gifts of the ‘divine Jenny.’
“Of all your speculations--from the negro centenarina, who didn’t nurse
General Washington, down to the Bearded Woman of Genoa--there was not
one which required the exercise of so much humbuggery as the Jenny Lind
concerts; and I verily believe there is no man living, other than
yourself, who could, or would, have risked the enormous expenditure of
money necessary to carry them through successfully--travelling, with
sixty artists, four thousand miles, and giving ninety-three concerts, at
an actual cost of forty-five hundred dollars each, is what no other man
would have undertaken--you accomplished this, and pocketed by the
operation but little less than two hundred thousand dollars! Mr. Barnum,
you are yourself, alone!
“I honor you, oh! Great Impressario, as the most successful manager in
America or any other country. Democrat, as you are, you can give a
practical lesson to the aristocrats of Europe how to live. At your
beautiful and tasteful residence, ‘Iranistan’ (I don’t like the name,
though,) you can and do entertain your friends with a warmth of
hospitality, only equalled by that of the great landed proprietors of
the old country, or of our own ‘sunny South.’ Whilst riches are pouring
into your coffers from your various ‘ventures’ in all parts of the
world, you do not hoard your immense means, but continually ‘cast them
forth upon the waters,’ rewarding labor, encouraging the arts, and
lending a helping hand to industry in all its branches. Not content with
doing all this, you deal telling blows, whenever opportunity offers,
upon the monster Intemperance. Your labors in this great cause alone,
should entitle you to the thanks of all good men, women and children in
the land. Mr. Barnum, you deserve all your good fortune, and I hope you
may long live to enjoy your wealth and honor.
“As a small instalment towards the debt, I, as one of the community, owe
you, and with the hope of affording you an hour’s amusement (if you can
spare that amount of time from your numerous avocations to read it), I
present you with this little volume, containing a very brief account of
some of my ‘journey-work’ in the south and west; and remain, very
respectfully,
“Your friend, and affectionate uncle,
“SOL. SMITH.
HANG
“CHOUTEAU AVENUE, ST. LOUIS,
“Nov. 1, 1854.”
“Uncle” Sol. Smith must be held solely responsible for his extravagant
estimate of P. T. Barnum, and for his somewhat deprecatory view of the
attributes of the “divine Jenny.” It is true that he derived many of his
impressions of Miss Lind from the annoying circumstances that compelled
me to seek his professional advice and assistance in St. Louis, when
Jenny Lind’s secretary came to me with an assumed authorization from her
to abruptly close our engagement. But when Sol. Smith’s dedication was
first published, there were plenty of people and papers throughout the
land that were eager to catch up and indorse this new view of Miss
Lind’s character. The Athenians were sometimes sick, no doubt, of
hearing Aristides always called “the Just.” Yet, some of the sharp
things which Sol. Smith means to say about Miss Lind, apply rather to
the selfish persons who, unfortunately, were more in her confidence than
I ever aspired to be, and who assumed to advise her and thus easily
perverted her better judgment.
With all her excellent and even extraordinarily good qualities, however,
Jenny Lind was human, though the reputation she bore in Europe for her
many charitable acts led me to believe, till I knew her, that she was
nearly perfect. I think now that her natural impulses were more simple,
childlike, pure and generous than those of almost any other person I
ever met. But she had been petted, almost worshipped, so long, that it
would have been strange indeed if her unbounded popularity had not in
some degree affected her to her hurt, and it must not be thought
extraordinary if she now and then exhibited some phase of human
weakness.
Like most persons of uncommon talent, she had a strong will which, at
times, she found ungovernable; but if she was ever betrayed into a
display of ill-temper she was sure to apologize and express her regret
afterwards. Le Grand Smith, who was quite intimate with her, and who was
my right-hand man during the entire Lind engagement, used sometimes to
say to me:
“Well, Mr. Barnum, you have managed wonderfully in always keeping
Jenny’s ‘angel’ side outside with the public.”
More than one Englishman--I may instance Mr. Dolby, Mr. Dickens’s agent
during his last visit to America--expressed surprise at the confirmed
impression of “perfection” entertained by the general American public in
regard to the Swedish Nightingale. These things are written with none
but the kindest feelings towards the sweet songstress, and only to
modify the too current ideas of superhuman excellence which cannot be
characteristic of any mortal being.
As I have before intimated in giving details of my management of the
enterprise, believing, as I did when I engaged her, in her “angelic”
reputation, I am frank enough to confess that I considered her private
character a valuable adjunct, even in a business point of view, to her
renown as a singer. I admit that I took her charities into account as
part of my “stock in trade.” Whenever she sang for a public or private
charity, she gave her voice, which was worth a thousand dollars to her
every evening. At such times, I always insisted upon paying for the
hall, orchestra, printing, and other expenses, because I felt able and
willing to contribute my full share towards the worthy objects which
prompted these benefits.
This narration would be incomplete if I did not add the following:
We were in Havana when I showed to Miss Lind a paper containing the
conundrum on “for-getting” and “for-giving,” at which she laughed
heartily, but immediately checked herself and said:
“O! Mr. Barnum, this is not fair; you know that you really give more
than I do from the proceeds of every one of these charity concerts.”
And it is but just to her to say that she frequently remonstrated with
me and declared that the actual expenses should be deducted and the thus
lessened sum devoted to the charity for which the concert might be
given; but I always laughingly told her that I must do my part, give my
share, and that if it was purely a business operation, “bread cast upon
the waters,” it would return, perhaps, buttered; for the larger her
reputation for liberality, the more liberal the public would surely be
to us and to our enterprise.
I have no wish to conceal these facts; and I certainly have no desire to
receive a larger meed of praise than my qualified generosity merits.
Justice to myself and to my management, as well as to Miss Lind, seems
to permit, if not to demand, this explanation.