AN ENTERPRISING ENGLISHMAN.
AN ENGLISH YANKEE--MY FIRST INTERVIEW WITH HIM--HIS PLANS BASED ON
BARNUM’S BOOK--ADVERTISING FOR PARTNERS--HOW MY RULES MADE HIM
RICH--METHOD IN MADNESS--THE “BARNUM” OF BURY--DINNER TO TOM THUMB
AND COMMODORE NUTT--MY AGENT IN PARIS--MEASURING A MONSTER--HOW
GIANTS AND DWARFS STRETCH AND CONTRACT--AN UNWILLING FRENCHMAN--A
PERSISTENT MEASURER--A GIGANTIC HUMBUG--THE STEAM-ENGINES “BARNUM”
AND “CHARITY”--WHAT “CHARITY” DID FOR “BARNUM”--SELLING THE SAME
GOODS A THOUSAND TIMES--THE GREAT CAKES--SIMNEL SUNDAY--THE
SANITARY COMMISSION FAIR.
While visiting Manchester, in 1858, I was invited by Mr. Peacock, the
lessee, to deliver a lecture in “Free Trade Hall.” I gave a lecture, the
title of which I now forget; but I well remember it contained numerous
personal reminiscences. The next day a gentleman sent his card to my
room at the hotel where I was stopping. I requested the servant to show
the gentleman up at once, and he soon appeared and introduced himself.
At first he seemed somewhat embarrassed, but gradually broke the ice by
saying he had been pleased in listening to my lecture the previous
evening, and added that he knew my history pretty well, as he had read
my autobiography. As his embarrassment at first meeting with a stranger
wore away, he informed me that he was joint proprietor with another
gentleman in a “cotton-mill” in Bury, near Manchester, “although,” he
modestly added, “only a few years ago I was working as a journeyman, and
probably should have been at this time, had it not been for your book.”
Observing my surprise at this announcement, he continued:
“The fact is, Mr. Barnum, upon reading your autobiography, I thought I
perceived you tried to make yourself out something worse than you really
were; for I discovered a pleasant spirit and a good heart under the
rougher exterior in which you chose to present yourself to the public;
but,” he added, “after reading your life I found myself in possession of
renewed strength, and awakened energies and aspirations, and I said to
myself, ‘Why can’t I go ahead and make money as Barnum did? He commenced
without money and succeeded; why may not I?’ In this train of thought,”
he continued, “I went to a newspaper office and advertised for a partner
with money to join me in establishing a cotton-mill. I had no
applications, and, remembering your experiences when you had money and
wanted a partner, I spent half a crown in a similar experiment. I
advertised for a partner to join a man who had plenty of capital. Then I
had lots of applicants ready to introduce me into all sorts of
occupations, from that of a banker to that of a horse-jockey or gambler,
if I would only furnish the money to start with. After a while, I
advertised again for a partner, and obtained one with money. We have a
good mill. I devote myself closely to business, and have been very
successful. I know every line in your book; so, indeed, do several
members of my family; and I have conducted my business on the principles
laid down in your published ‘Rules for Money-making.’ I find them
correct principles; and, sir, I have sought this interview in order to
thank you for publishing your autobiography, and to tell you that to
that act of yours I attribute my present position in life.”
Of course, I was pleased and surprised at this revelation, and, feeling
that my new friend, whom I will call Mr. Wilson,[B] had somewhat
exaggerated the results of my labors as influencing his own, I said:
“Your statement is certainly very flattering, and I am glad if I have
been able in any manner, through my experiences, to aid you in starting
in life; but I presume your genius would have found vent in good time if
I had never written a book.”
“No, indeed it would not,” he replied, in an earnest tone; “I am sure I
should have worked as a mill-hand all my life if it had not been for
you. Oh, I have made no secret of it,” he continued; “the commercial men
with whom I deal know all about it: indeed, they call me ‘Barnum’ on
‘change here in Manchester.”
[B] By his consent I state that his name is John Fish.
This singular yet gratifying interview led to several others, and from
that time a warm personal friendship sprung up between us. In our
conversations, my enthusiastic friend would often quote entire pages
from my autobiography, which I had almost forgotten; and, after he had
frequently visited me by appointment where I happened to be stopping in
different parts of Great Britain, he would write me letters, often
quoting scraps of my conversation, and extolling what he called the
“wisdom” of these careless remarks. I laughed at him, and told him he
was about half Barnum-crazy. “Well,” he replied, “then there is method
in my madness, for whenever I follow the Barnum rules I am always
successful.”
On one occasion, when General Tom Thumb exhibited in Bury, Mr. Wilson
closed his mill, and gave each of his employés a ticket to the
exhibition; out of respect, as he said, to Barnum. On a subsequent
occasion, when the little General visited England the last time, Mr.
Wilson invited him, his wife, Commodore Nutt, Minnie Warren, and the
managers of “the show,” to a splendid and sumptuous dinner at his house,
which the distinguished little party enjoyed exceedingly; and several
interesting incidents occurred on that pleasant occasion, which the
miniature guests will never cease to remember with gratitude. When I was
about to leave England for home, in 1859, my friend Wilson made an
appointment to come to Liverpool to see me off. He came the day before I
sailed, and brought his little daughter, some twelve years old, with
him. We had a remarkably pleasant and social time, and I did not part
with them until the tug was almost dropping off from the steamer in the
river Mersey. It was a very reluctant parting. We waved our
handkerchiefs until we could no longer distinguish each other; and up to
the present writing we have never again met. To my numerous invitations
to him and his family, to visit me in America, he sends but one
response,--that, as yet, his business will not permit him to leave home.
I hope ere long to receive a different answer. Our correspondence has
been regularly kept up ever since we parted.
My friend Wilson expressed himself extremely anxious to do any service
for me which might at any time be in his power. Soon after I arrived in
America, I read an account of a French giant, then exhibiting in Paris,
and said to be over eight feet in height. As this was a considerably
greater altitude than any specimen of the _genus homo_ within my
knowledge had attained, I wrote to my friend to take a trip to Paris for
me, secure an interview with this modern Anak, and by actual measurement
obtain for me his exact height. I enclosed an offer for this giant’s
services, arranging the price on a sliding scale, according to what his
height should actually prove to be,--commencing at eight feet, and
descending to seven feet two inches; and if he was not taller than the
latter figure, I did not want him at all.
Mr. Wilson, placing an English two-foot rule in his pocket, started for
Paris; and, after much difficulty and several days’ delay in trying to
speak with the giant, who was closely watched by his exhibitor, Mr.
Wilson succeeded, by the aid of an interpreter, in exchanging a few
words with him, and appointing an interview at his own (the giant’s)
lodgings. And now came a trouble which required all the patience and
diplomacy which my agent could command. Mr. Wilson, arriving at the
place of rendezvous, told the giant who he was, and the object of his
visit. In fact, he showed him my letter, and read the tempting offers
which I made for his services, provided he measured eight feet, or even
came within six inches of that height.
“Oh, I measure over eight feet in height,” said the giant. “Very
likely,” replied my faithful agent, “but you see my orders are to
measure you.” “There’s no need of that, you can see for yourself,”
stretching himself up a few inches, by aid of that peculiar muscular
knack which giants and dwarfs exercise when they desire to extend or
diminish their apparent stature. “No doubt you are right,” persisted the
agent; “but you see that is not according to orders.” “Well, stand
alongside of me; see, the top of your hat don’t come to my shoulder,”
said the giant, as he swung his arm completely over Mr. Wilson’s head,
hat and all.
But my wary agent happened just then to be watching
[Illustration: “_THE LONG AND SHORT OF IT._”]
the giant’s feet and knees, and he thought he saw a movement around the
“understandings” that materially helped the elevation of the
“upperworks.” “It is all very well,” said Mr. Wilson; “but I tell you I
have brought a two-foot rule from England, and, if I am not permitted to
measure your height with that, I shall not engage you.” My offer had
been very liberal; in fact, provided he was eight feet high, it was more
than four times the amount the giant was then receiving; it was
evidently a great temptation to his “highness,” and quite as evidently
he did not want to be fairly measured. “Well,” said the giant, “if you
can’t take my word for it, look at that door; you see my head is more
than two feet above the top:” (giving his neck and every muscle in his
body a severe stretch:) “just measure the height of that door.” My
English friend plainly saw that the giant felt that he could not come up
to the mark, and he laughed at this last _ruse_. “Oh, I don’t want to
measure the door; I prefer to measure you,” said Mr. Wilson, coolly. The
giant was now desperate, and, stretching himself up to the highest
point, he exclaimed: “Well, be quick! put your rule down to my feet and
measure me; no delay, if you please.”
The giant knew he could not hold himself up many seconds to the few
extra inches he had imparted to his extended muscles; but his remark had
drawn Mr. Wilson’s attention to his feet, and from the feet to the
boots, and he began to open his eyes. “Look here, Monsieur,” he
exclaimed with much earnestness, “this sort of thing wont do, you know.
I don’t understand this contrivance around the soles of your boots, but
it seems to me you have got a set of springs in there which materially
aids your altitude a few inches when you desire it. Now, I shall stand
no more nonsense. If I engage you at all, you must first take off your
boots, and lie flat upon your back in the middle of the floor; there you
will have no purchase, and you may stretch as much as you like; and for
every inch you fairly measure above seven feet two inches you know what
I am authorized to give you.” The giant grumbled and talked about his
word being doubted and his honor assailed, but Mr. Wilson calmly
persisted, until at length he slowly took off his coat and gradually got
down on the floor. Stretched upon his back, he made several vain efforts
to extend his natural height. Mr. Wilson carefully applied his English
two-foot rule, the result of the measurement causing him much
astonishment and the giant more indignation, the giant measuring exactly
seven feet one and one half inches. So he was not engaged, and my agent
returned to England and wrote me a most amusing letter, giving the
particulars of the gigantic interview.
On the occasion of the erection of a new engine in his mill, Mr. Wilson
proposed naming it after his daughter, but she insisted it should be
christened “Barnum,” and it was so done, with considerable ceremony.
Subsequently he introduced a second engine into his enlarged mill, and
named this, after my wife, “Charity.”
A short time since, I wrote informing him that I desired to give some of
the foregoing facts in my book, and asked him to give me his consent,
and also to furnish me some particulars in regard to the engines, and
the capacity of his mill. He wrote in return a modest letter, which is
so characteristic of my whole-souled friend that I cannot forbear making
the following extracts from it:
Had I made a fortune of £100,000 I should have been proud of such a
place in your book as Albert Smith has in your Autobiography; but,
as I have only been able to make (here he named a sum which in this
country would be considered almost a fortune), I feel I should be
out of place in your pages; at all events, if you mention me at
all, draw it mildly, if you please.
The American war has made sad havoc in our trade, and it is only by
close attention to business that I have lately been at all
successful. I have built a place for one thousand looms, and have,
as you know, put in a pair of engines, which I have named “Barnum”
and “Charity.” Each engine has its name engraved on two large brass
plates at either end of the cylinder, which has often caused much
mirth when I have explained the circumstances to visitors. I
started and christened “Charity” on the 14th of January last, and
she has saved me £12 per month in coals ever since. The steam from
the boiler goes first to “Charity” (she is high pressure), and
“Barnum” only gets the steam after she has done with it. He has to
work at low pressure (a condensing engine), and the result is a
saving. Barnum was extravagant when he took steam direct, but,
since I fixed Charity betwixt him and the boiler, he can only get
what she gives him. This reminds me that you state in your “Life”
you could always make money, but formerly did not save it. Perhaps
you never took care of it till Charity became Chancellor of
Exchequer. When I visited you at the Bull Hotel, in Blackburn, you
pointed to General Tom Thumb, and said: “That is my piece of goods;
I have sold it hundreds of thousands of times, and have never yet
delivered it!” That was ten years ago, in 1858. If I had been doing
the same with my pieces of calico, I must have been wealthy by this
time: but I have been hammering at one (cotton) nail several
months, and, as it did not offer to clinch, I was almost tempted to
doubt one of your “rules,” and thought I would drive at some other
nail; but, on reflection, I knew I understood cotton better than
anything else, and so I back up your rule and stick to cotton, not
doubting it will be all right and successful.
Mr. Wilson was one of the large class of English manufacturers who
suffered seriously from the effects of the rebellion in the United
States. As an Englishman he could not have a patriot’s interest in the
progress of that terrible struggle; but he made a practical exhibition
of sympathy for the suffering soldiers, in a pleasant and characteristic
manner.
The great fair of the Sanitary Commission, held in New York during the
war, affords one of the most interesting chapters in American history.
It meant cordial for the sick and suffering in the hospitals, and balm
and relief for the wounded in the field. None of those who visited the
Fair will forget, in the multiplicity of offerings to put money into the
treasury of the Commission, two monster cakes, which were as strange in
shape and ornament as they were fairly mammoth in their proportions. One
of these great cakes was covered with miniature forts, ships of war,
cannon, armies, arms of the whole “panoply of war,” and it excited the
attention of all visitors. This strange cake was what is called in Bury,
England, where name, cake and custom originated, a “Simnel cake,” and an
interesting history pertains to it.
There is an anniversary in Bury, and I believe only in that place in
England, called “Simnel Sunday.” Like many old observances, its origin
is lost in antiquity; but on the fourth Sunday in Lent, which is Simnel
Sunday, everybody in Bury eats Simnel cake. It is a high day for the
inhabitants, and the streets are thronged with people. During the
preceding week, the shop windows of the confectioners exhibit a plethora
of large, flat cakes, of a peculiar pattern and of toothsome
composition. Every confectioner aims to outdo his rivals in the bigness
of the one show-cake which nearly fills his window, and in the moulding
and ornamental accessories. A local description, giving the requisite
characteristics, says: “The great Simnel must be rich, must be big, and
must be novel in ornamentation.” Such is the Simnel cake, the specialty
of Simnel Sunday, in the town of Bury, in Old England.
And such was the monster cake, with its warlike emblems, which attracted
so much attention at the Fair, and added considerably to the receipts
for the Sanitary Commission. It was sent to me expressly for this Fair,
by my friend Wilson, and, while it was in itself a generous gift, it was
doubly so as coming from an English manufacturer who had suffered by the
war. The second great Simnel cake which stood beside it in the Fair was
sent to me personally by Mr. Wilson; but with his permission I took much
pleasure in contributing it, with his own offering, for the benefit of
our suffering soldiers.
It may thus be seen that my friend Wilson is not only “an enterprising
Englishman,” but that he is also a generous, noble-hearted man,--one who
in a great struggle like the late civil war in America, could sincerely
sympathize with suffering humanity, notwithstanding, as he expressed it,
“the American war has made sad havoc in our trade.” His soul soars above
“pounds, shillings and pence”; and I take great pleasure in expressing
admiration for a gentleman of such marked enterprise, philanthropy and
integrity.