RICHARD’S HIMSELF AGAIN.
AT HOME--EXTINGUISHMENT OF THE CLOCK DEBTS--A RASCALLY
PROPOSITION--BARNUM ON HIS FEET AGAIN--RE-PURCHASE OF THE MUSEUM--A
GALA DAY--MY RECEPTION BY MY FRIENDS--THE STORY OF MY TROUBLES--HOW
I WADED ASHORE--PROMISES TO THE PUBLIC--THE PUBLIC RESPONSE--MUSEUM
VISITORS--THE RECEIPTS DOUBLED--HOW THE PRESS RECEIVED THE NEWS OF
RESTORATION--THE SYCOPHANTS--OLD AND FAST FRIENDS--ROBERT
BONNER--CONSIDERATION AND COURTESY OF CREDITORS--THE BOSTON
SATURDAY EVENING GAZETTE AGAIN--ANOTHER WORD FOR BARNUM.
In 1859 I returned to the United States. During my last visit abroad I
had secured many novelties for the Museum, including the Albino Family,
which I engaged at Amsterdam, and Thiodon’s mechanical theatre, which I
found at Southampton, beside purchasing many curiosities. These things
all afforded me a liberal commission, and thus, by constant and earnest
effort, I made much money, besides what I derived from the Tom Thumb
exhibitions, my lectures, and other enterprises. All of this money, as
well as my wife’s income and a considerable sum raised by selling a
portion of her property, was faithfully devoted to the one great object
of my life at that period--my extrication from those crushing clock
debts. I worked and I saved. When my wife and youngest daughter were not
boarding in Bridgeport, they lived frugally in the suburbs, in a small
one-story house which was hired at the rate of $150 a year. I had now
been struggling about four years with the difficulties of my one great
financial mistake, and the end still seemed to be far off. I felt that
the land, purchased by my wife in East Bridgeport at the assignees’
sale, would, after a while, increase rapidly in value; and on the
strength of this expectation more money was borrowed for the sake of
taking up the clock notes, and some of the East Bridgeport property was
sold in single lots, the proceeds going to the same object.
At last, in March 1860, all the clock indebtedness was satisfactorily
extinguished, excepting some $20,000 which I had bound myself to take up
within a certain number of months, my friend, James D. Johnson,
guaranteeing my bond to that effect. Mr. Johnson was by far my most
effective agent in working me through these clock troubles, and in
aiding to bring them to a successful conclusion. Another man, however,
who pretended to be my friend, and whom I liberally paid to assist in
bringing me out of my difficulties, gained my confidence, possessed
himself of a complete knowledge of the situation of my affairs, and then
coolly proposed to Mr. Johnson to counteract all my efforts to get out
of debt, and to divide between them what could be got out of my estate.
Failing in this, the scoundrel, taking advantage of the confidence
reposed in him, slyly arranged with the owners of clock notes to hold on
to them, and share with him whatever they might gain by adopting his
advice, he assuming that he knew all my secrets and that I would soon
come out all right again. Thus I had to contend with foes from within as
well as without; but the “spotting” of this traitor was worth something,
for it opened my eyes in relation to former transactions in which I had
intrusted large sums of money to his hands, and it put me on guard for
the future. But I bear no malice towards him; I only pity him, as I do
any man who knows so little of the true road to contentment and
happiness as to think that it lies in the direction of dishonesty.
I need not dwell upon the details of what I suffered from the doings of
those heartless, unscrupulous men who fatten upon the misfortunes of
others. It is enough to say that I triumphed over them and all my
troubles. I was once more a free man. At last I was able to make
proclamation that “Richard’s himself again”; that Barnum was once more
on his feet. The Museum had not flourished greatly in the hands of
Messrs. Greenwood & Butler, and so, when I was free, I was quite willing
to take back the property upon terms that were entirely satisfactory to
them. I had once retired from the establishment a man of independent
fortune; I was now ready to return, to make, if possible, another
fortune.
On the 17th of March, 1860, Messrs. Butler & Greenwood signed an
agreement to sell and deliver to me on the following Saturday, March
24th, their good will and entire interest in the Museum collection. This
fact was thoroughly circulated and it was everywhere announced in
blazing posters, placards and advertisements which were headed, “Barnum
on his feet again.” It was furthermore stated that the Museum would be
closed, March 24th, for one week for repairs and general renovation, to
be re-opened, March 31st, under the management and proprietorship of its
original owner. It was also announced that on the night of closing I
would address the audience from the stage.
The American Museum, decorated on that occasion, as on holidays, with a
brilliant display of flags and banners, was filled to its utmost
capacity, and I experienced profound delight at seeing hundreds of old
friends of both sexes in the audience. I lacked but four months of being
fifty years of age; but I felt all the vigor and ambition that fired me
when I first took possession of the premises twenty years before; and I
was confident that the various experiences of that score of years would
be valuable to me in my second effort to secure an independence.
At the rising of the curtain and before the play commenced, I stepped on
the stage and was received by the large and brilliant audience with an
enthusiasm far surpassing anything of the kind I had ever experienced or
witnessed in a public career of a quarter of a century. Indeed, this
tremendous demonstration nearly broke me down, and my voice faltered and
tears came to my eyes as I thought of this magnificent conclusion to the
trials and struggles of the past four years. Recovering myself, however,
I bowed my grateful acknowledgments for the reception, and addressed the
audience as follows:
“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN: I should be more or less than human, if I could
meet this unexpected and overwhelming testimonial at your hands, without
the deepest emotion. My own personal connection with the Museum is now
resumed, and I avail myself of the circumstance to say why it is so.
Never did I feel stronger in my worldly prosperity than in September,
1855. Three months later, I was so deeply embarrassed that I felt
certain of nothing, except the uncertainty of everything. A combination
of singular efforts and circumstances tempted me to put faith in a
certain clock manufacturing company, and I placed my signature to
papers which ultimately broke me down. After nearly five years of hard
struggle to keep my head above water, I have touched bottom at last, and
here, to-night, I am happy to announce that I have waded ashore. Every
clock debt of which I have any knowledge has been provided for. Perhaps,
after the troubles and turmoils I have experienced, I should feel no
desire to re-engage in the excitements of business, but a man like
myself, less than fifty years of age, and enjoying robust health, is
scarcely old enough to be embalmed and put in a glass case in the Museum
as one of its million of curiosities. ‘It is better to wear out than
rust out.’ Besides, if a man of active temperament is not busy, he is
apt to get into mischief. To avoid evil, therefore, and since business
activity is a necessity of my nature, here I am, once more, in the
Museum, and among those with whom I have been so long and so pleasantly
identified. I am confident of a cordial welcome, and hence feel some
claim to your indulgence while I briefly allude to the means of my
present deliverance from utter financial ruin. Need I say, in the first
place, that I am somewhat indebted to the forbearance of generous
creditors. In the next place, permit me to speak of sympathizing
friends, whose volunteered loans and exertions vastly aided my rescue.
When my day of sorrow came, I first paid or secured every debt I owed of
a personal nature. This done, I felt bound in honor to give up all of my
property that remained towards liquidating my “clock debts.” I placed it
in the hands of trustees and receivers for the benefit of all the
“clock” creditors. But, at the forced sale of my Connecticut real
estate, there was a purchaser behind the screen, of whom the world had
little knowledge. In the day of my prosperity I made over to my wife
much valuable property, including the lease of this Museum building,--a
lease then having about twenty-two years to run, and enhanced in value
to more than double its original worth. I sold the Museum collection to
Messrs. Greenwood and Butler, subject to my wife’s separate interest in
the lease, and she has received more than eighty thousand dollars over
and above the sums paid to the owners of the building. Instead of
selfishly applying this amount to private purposes, my family lived with
a due regard to economy, and the savings (strictly belonging to my wife)
were devoted to buying in portions of my estate at the assignees’ sales,
and to purchasing “clock notes” bearing my indorsements. The Christian
name of my wife is Charity. I may well acknowledge, therefore, that I am
not only a proper ‘subject of charity,’ but that ‘without Charity, I am
nothing.’
“But, ladies and gentlemen, while Charity thus labored in my behalf,
Faith and Hope were not idle. I have been anything but indolent during
the last four years. Driven from pillar to post, and annoyed beyond
description by all sorts of legal claims and writs, I was perusing
protests and summonses by day, and dreaming of clocks run down by night.
My head was ever whizzing with dislocated cog-wheels and broken
main-springs; my whole mind (and my credit) was running upon tick, and
everything pressing on me like a dead weight.
“In this state of affairs I felt that I was of no use on this side of
the Atlantic; so, giving the pendulum a swing, and seizing time by the
forelock, I went to Europe. There I furtively pulled the wires of
several exhibitions, among which that of Tom Thumb may be mentioned for
example. I managed a variety of musical and commercial speculations in
Great Britain, Germany, and Holland. These enterprises, together with
the net profits of my public lectures, enabled me to remit large sums to
confidential agents for the purchase of my obligations. In this manner,
I quietly extinguished, little by little, every dollar of my clock
liabilities. I could not have achieved this difficult feat, however,
without the able assistance of enthusiastic friends,--and among the
chief of them let me gratefully acknowledge the invaluable services of
Mr. James D. Johnson, a gentleman of wealth, in Bridgeport, Connecticut.
Other gentlemen have been generous with me. Some have loaned me large
sums, without security, and have placed me under obligations which must
ever command my honest gratitude; but Mr. Johnson has been a ‘friend
indeed,’ for he has been truly a ‘friend in need.’
“You must not infer, from what I have said, that I have completely
recovered from the stunning blow to which I was subjected four years
ago. I have lost more in the way of tens of thousands, yes, hundreds of
thousands, than I care to remember. A valuable portion of my real estate
in Connecticut, however, has been preserved, and as I feel all the ardor
of twenty years ago, and the prospect here is so flattering, my heart is
animated with the hope of ultimately, by enterprise and activity,
obliterating unpleasant reminiscences, and retrieving the losses of the
past. Experience, too, has taught me not only that even in the matter of
money, ‘enough is as good as a feast,’ but that there are, in this
world, some things vastly better than the Almighty Dollar! Possibly I
may contemplate, at times, the painful day when I said: ‘Othello’s
occupation’s gone;’ but I shall more frequently cherish the memory of
this moment, when I am permitted to announce that ‘Richard’s himself
again.’
“Many people have wondered that a man considered so acute as myself
should have been deluded into embarrassments like mine, and not a few
have declared, in short metre, that ‘Barnum was a fool.’ I can only
reply that I never made pretensions to the sharpness of a pawn-broker,
and I hope I shall never so entirely lose confidence in human nature as
to consider every man a scamp by instinct, or a rogue by necessity. ‘It
is better to be deceived sometimes, than to distrust always,’ says Lord
Bacon, and I agree with him.
“Experience is said to be a hard schoolmaster, but I should be sorry to
feel that this great lesson in adversity has not brought forth fruits of
some value. I needed the discipline this tribulation has given me, and I
really feel, after all, that this, like many other apparent evils, was
only a blessing in disguise. Indeed, I may mention that the very clock
factory which I built in Bridgeport, for the purpose of bringing
hundreds of workmen to that city, has been purchased and quadrupled in
size by the Wheeler and Wilson Sewing Machine Company, and is now filled
with intelligent New England mechanics, whose families add two thousand
to the population, and who are doing a great work in building up and
beautifying that flourishing city. So that the same concern which
prostrated me seems destined as a most important agent towards my
recuperation. I am certain that the popular sympathy has been with me
from the beginning; and this, together with a consciousness of
rectitude, is more than an offset to all the vicissitudes to which I
have been subjected.
“In conclusion, I beg to assure you and the public that my chief
pleasure, while health and strength are spared me, will be to cater for
your and their healthy amusement and instruction. In future, such
capabilities as I possess will be devoted to the maintenance of this
Museum as a popular place of family resort, in which all that is novel
and interesting shall be gathered from the four quarters of the globe,
and which ladies and children may visit at all times unattended, without
danger of encountering anything of an objectionable nature. The dramas
introduced in the Lecture Room will never contain a profane expression
or a vulgar allusion; on the contrary, their tendency will always be to
encourage virtue, and frown upon vice.
“I have established connections in Europe, which will enable me to
produce here a succession of interesting novelties otherwise
inaccessible. Although I shall be personally present much of the time,
and hope to meet many of my old acquaintances, as well as to form many
new ones, I am sure you will be glad to learn that I have re-secured the
services of one of the late proprietors, and the active manager of this
Museum, Mr. John Greenwood, Jr. As he is a modest gentleman, who would
be the last to praise himself, allow me to add that he is one to whose
successful qualities as a caterer for the popular entertainments, the
crowds that have often filled this building may well bear testimony.
But, more than this, he is the unobtrusive one to whose integrity,
diligence and devotion, I owe much of my present position of
self-congratulation. Mr. Greenwood will hereafter act as assistant
manager, while his late co-partner, Mr. Butler, has engaged in another
branch of business. Once more, thanking you all for your kind welcome,
I bid you, till the re-opening, ‘an affectionate adieu.’”
This off-hand speech was received with almost tumultuous applause. At
nearly fifty years of age, I was now once more before the public with
the promise to put on a full head of steam, to “rush things,” to give
double or treble the amount of attractions ever before offered at the
Museum, and to devote all my own time and services to the enterprise. In
return, I asked that the public should give my efforts the patronage
they merited, and the public took me at my word. The daily number of
visitors at once more than doubled, and my exertions to gratify them
with rapid changes and novelties never tired.
The announcement that “Richard’s himself again”--that I was at last out
of the financial entanglement--was variously received in the community.
That portion of the press which had followed me with abuse when I was
down, under the belief that my case was past recovery, were chary in
allusions to the new state of things, or passed them over without
comment. The sycophants always knew I would get up again, “and said so
at the time;” the many and noble journals which had stood by me and
upheld me in my misfortunes, were of course rejoiced, and their words of
sincere congratulation gave me a higher satisfaction than I have power
of language to acknowledge. Letters of congratulation came in upon me
from every quarter. Friendly hands that had never been withheld during
the long period of my misfortune were now extended with a still heartier
grip. I never knew till now the warmth and number of my friends.
My editorial friend, Mr. Robert Bonner, of the New York _Ledger_,
sincerely congratulated me upon my full and complete restoration. I had
some new plays which were adapted from very popular stories which had
been written for Mr. Bonner’s paper, and I went to him to purchase, if I
could, the large cuts he had used to advertise these stories in his
street placards. He at once generously offered to lend them to me as
long as I wished to use them and tendered me his services in any way.
Mr. Bonner was the boldest of advertisers, following me closely in the
field in which I was the pioneer, and to his judicious use of printers’
ink, he owes the fine fortune which he so worthily deserves and enjoys.
Nor must I neglect to state that a large number of my creditors who held
the clock notes, proved very magnanimous in taking into consideration
the gross deception which had put me in their power. Not a few of them
said to me in substance: “you never supposed you had made yourself
liable for this debt; you were deluded into it; it is not right that it
should be held over you to keep you hopelessly down; take it, and pay me
such percentage as, under the circumstances, it is possible for you to
pay.” But for such men and such consideration I fear I should never have
got on my feet again; and of the many who rejoiced in my bettered
fortune, not a few were of this class of my creditors.
My old friend, the Boston _Saturday Evening Gazette_, which printed a
few cheering poetical lines of consolation and hope when I was down, now
gave me the following from the same graceful pen, conveying glowing
words of congratulation at my rise again:
ANOTHER WORD FOR BARNUM.
Barnum, your hand! The struggle o’er,
You face the world and ask no favor;
You stand where you have stood before,
The old salt hasn’t lost its savor.
You now can laugh with friends, at foes,
Ne’er heeding Mrs. Grundy’s tattle;
You’ve dealt and taken sturdy blows,
Regardless of the rabble’s prattle.
Not yours the heart to harbor ill
’Gainst those who’ve dealt in trivial jesting;
You pass them with the same good will
Erst shown when they their wit were testing.
You’re the same Barnum that we knew,
You’re good for years, still fit for labor,
Be as of old, be bold and true,
Honest as man, as friend, as neighbor.
At about this period, the following poem was published in a Pottsville,
Pa., paper, and copied by many journals of the day:
A HEALTH TO BARNUM.
Companions! fill your glasses round,
And drink a health to one
Who has few coming after him,
To do as he has done;
Who made a fortune for himself,
Made fortunes, too, for many,
Yet wronged no bosom of a sigh,
No pocket of a penny.
Come! shout a gallant chorus,
And make the glasses ring,--
Here’s health and luck to Barnum!
The Exhibition King.
Who lured the Swedish Nightingale
To Western woods to come?
Who prosperous and happy made
The life of little Thumb?
Who oped Amusement’s golden door
So cheaply to the crowd,
And taught Morality to smile
On all _his_ stage allowed?
Come! shout a gallant chorus,
Until the glasses ring,--
Here’s health and luck to Barnum!
The Exhibition King.
And when the sad reverses came,
As come they may to all,
Who stood a Hero, bold and true,
Amid his fortune’s fall?
Who to the utmost yielded up
What Honor could not keep,
Then took the field of life again
With courage calm and deep?
Come! shout a gallant chorus,
Until the glasses dance,--
Here’s health and luck to Barnum,
The Napoleon of Finance.
Yet, no--_our_ hero would not look
With smiles on such a cup;
Throw out the wine--with water clear,
Fill the pure crystal up.
Then rise, and greet with deep respect,
The courage he has shown,
And drink to him who well deserves
A seat on Fortune’s throne.
Here’s health and luck to Barnum!
An _Elba_ he has seen,
And never may his map of life
Display a _St. Helene_!
MRS. ANNA BACHE.
PHILADELPHIA.