Struggles and Triumphs, P. T. Barnum [good books to read in english .txt] 📗

high pickets, and introducing a number of Rocky Mountain elk, reindeer, and American deer, I converted it into a deer park. Strangers passing by would naturally suppose that it belonged to Johnson’s estate, and to render the illusion more complete, his son-in-law, Mr. S. H. Wales, of the Scientific American, placed a sign in the park, fronting on the street, and reading:

“All persons are forbid trespassing on these grounds, or disturbing the deer.

“J. D. Johnson.”

I “acknowledged the corn,” and was much pleased with the joke. Johnson was delighted, and bragged considerably of having got ahead of Barnum, and the sign remained undisturbed for several days. It happened at length that a party of friends came to visit him from New York, arriving in the evening. Johnson told them he had got a capital joke on Barnum; he would not explain, but said they should see it for themselves the next morning. Bright and early he led them into the street, and after conducting them a proper distance, wheeled them around in front of the sign. To his dismay he discovered that I had added directly under his name the words, “Gamekeeper to P. T. Barnum.” His friends, as soon as they understood the joke, enjoyed it mightily, but it was said that neighbor Johnson laughed out of “the wrong side of his mouth.”

Thereafter, Mr. Johnson was known among his friends and acquaintances as “Barnum’s gamekeeper.” Sometime afterwards when I was President of the Pequonnock Bank, it was my custom every year to give a grand dinner at Iranistan to the directors, and in making preparations I used to send to certain friends in the West for prairie chickens and other game. On one occasion a large box, marked “P. T. Barnum, Bridgeport; Game,” was lying in the express office, when Johnson seeing it, and espying the word “game,” said:

“Look here! I am ‘Barnum’s gamekeeper,’ and I’ll take charge of this box.”

And “take charge” of it he did, carrying it home and notifying me that it was in his possession, and that as he was my gamekeeper he would “keep” this, unless I sent him an order for a new hat. He knew very well that I would give fifty dollars rather than be deprived of the box, and as he also threatened to give a game dinner at his own house, I speedily sent the order for the hat, acknowledged the good joke, and my own guests enjoyed the double “game.”

During the year 1848, Mr. Frank Leslie, since so widely known as the publisher of several illustrated journals, came to me with letters of introduction from London, and I employed him to get up for me an illustrated catalogue of my Museum. This he did in a splendid manner, and hundreds of thousands of copies were sold and distributed far and near, thus adding greatly to the renown of the establishment.

I count these two years⁠—1848 and 1849⁠—among the happiest of my life. I had enough to do in the management of my business, and yet I seemed to have plenty of leisure hours to pass with my family and friends in my beautiful home of Iranistan.

XVII The Jenny Lind Enterprise

Grand Scheme⁠—Congress of All Nations⁠—A Bold and Brilliant Enterprise⁠—The Jenny Lind Engagement⁠—My Agent in Europe⁠—His Instructions⁠—Correspondence with Miss Lind⁠—Benedict and Belletti⁠—Joshua Bates⁠—Chevalier Wyckoff⁠—The Contract Signed⁠—My Reception of the News⁠—The Entire Sum of Money for the Engagement Sent to London⁠—My First Lind Letter to the Public⁠—A Poor Portrait⁠—Musical Notes in Wall Street⁠—A Friend in Need.

Many of my most fortunate enterprises have fairly startled me by the magnitude of their success. When my sanguine hopes predicted a steady flow of fortune, I have been inundated; when I calculated upon making a curious public pay me liberally for a meritorious article, I have often found the same public eager to deluge me with compensation. Yet, I never believed in mere luck and I always pitied the simpleton who relies on luck for his success. Luck is in no sense the foundation of my fortune; from the beginning of my career I planned and worked for my success. To be sure, my schemes often amazed me with the affluence of their results, and, arriving at the very best, I sometimes “builded better” than “I knew.”

For a long time I had been incubating a plan for an extraordinary exhibition which I was sure would be a success and would excite universal attention and commendation in America and abroad. This was nothing less than a “Congress of Nations”⁠—an assemblage of representatives of all the nations that could be reached by land or sea. I meant to secure a man and woman, as perfect as could be procured, from every accessible people, civilized and barbarous, on the face of the globe. I had actually contracted with an agent to go to Europe to make arrangements to secure “specimens” for such a show. Even now, I can conceive of no exhibition which would be more interesting and which would appeal more generally to all classes of patrons. As it was, and while positively preparing for such a congress, it occurred to me that another great enterprise could be undertaken at less risk, with far less real trouble, and with more remunerative results.

And now I come to speak of an undertaking which my worst enemy will admit was bold in its conception, complete in its development, and astounding in its success. It was an enterprise never before or since equalled in managerial annals. As I recall it now, I almost tremble at the seeming temerity of the attempt. That I am proud of it I freely confess. It placed me before the world in a new light; it gained me many warm friends in new circles; it was in itself a fortune to me⁠—I risked much but I made more.

It was in October 1849, that I conceived the idea of bringing Jenny Lind to this country.