The Life of P.T. Barnum

“Business! poor man,” said Mary soothingly, approaching the door.

“I am not a poor man, madam,” replied the hatter. “My name is Walter Dibble; I carry on hatting extensively in Danbury; I came to Grassy Plains to buy fur, and have purchased some ‘beaver’ and ‘coney,’ and now it seems I am to be called ‘crazy’ and a ‘poor man,’ because I want to buy a little ‘Russia’ to make up my assortment.”

The ladies began to open their eyes a little. They saw that Mr. Dibble was quite in earnest, and his explanation threw considerable light upon the subject.

“Who sent you here?” asked sister Mary.

“The clerk at the store opposite,” was the reply.

“He is a wicked young fellow for making all this trouble,” said the old lady. “He has been doing this for a joke,” she continued.

“A joke!” exclaimed Dibble, in surprise. “Have you not got any Russia, then?” he asked.

“My name is Jerusha, and so is my daughter’s,” said Mrs. Wheeler, “and that, I suppose, is what he meant by telling you about old and young Rushia.”

Mr. Dibble bolted through the door without a word of explanation, and made directly for our store. “You young scamp!” said he, as he entered; “what did you mean by sending me over there to buy Russia?”

“I did not send you to buy Rushia. I supposed you were either a bachelor or widower, and wanted to marry Rushia,” I replied, with a serious countenance.

“You lie, you young dog, and you know it,” he replied; “but never mind, I’ll pay you off for that, some day;” and taking his furs, he departed with less ill-humor than could have been expected under the circumstances.

“As drunk as a hatter” has long since passed into a proverb. There were some sober hatters in the times of which I write, but there were also many drinking ones. The hatters from out of town bought their rum by the keg or barrel, while those on Grassy Plains kept a man whose almost sole duty it was to go to and from the store and shops with half a dozen rum-bottles of various sizes. Some of these bottles were replenished several times in a day. My business, of course, included the filling of rum-bottles. I suppose I have drawn and bottled more rum than would be necessary to float a ship.

As it required a man of no superior intelligence to be a liquor carrier, the personage filling that office was usually a half-witted sort of fellow, or sometimes a broken-down toper, whose honor could be relied on not to drink until he had arrived at the hat shops with his precious burdens. The man who carried the bottles from the local hat shops the season I lived there was nicknamed “Soft Case.” He did not resent this title, when used by the journeymen and other men, but would not permit the boys to make use of the epithet. He was a harmless sort of chap, usually about half drunk, with just about brains enough to fill the station to which he was appointed. His name was Jacob, and by this name I usually addressed him; but coming in one day while I was in a hurry, I called out, “Well, Soft Case, what kind of liquor do you want today?”

“Don’t call me Soft Case,” said he, indignantly; “I’ll not allow it. I want you to understand, sir, that I am as hard a case as you or anybody else.”

Among our customers were several old Revolutionary pensioners, who usually traded out the amounts of their pensions before they were due, leaving their pension papers with us as security. It was necessary for us, however, in order to obtain the pension money, that the pensioner should appear before the pension agent when his money was due, and sign a receipt therefor. As some of these old men were pretty hard drinkers, it behooved us not to suffer them to trade out all their pension long before it was due, as instances had been known where they had refused to appear and sign their names unless their creditor would present them with a handsome bonus.

The name of one of our pensioners was Bevans. His nickname was “Uncle Bibbins.” He loved his glass, and was excessively fond of relating apocryphal Revolutionary adventures. We could hardly name a battle which he had not been in, a fortress which he had not helped to storm, nor any remarkable sight which he had not seen.

“Uncle Bibbins” had nearly used up his pension in trade at our store. We held his papers, but three months were to elapse before he could draw his money. We desired to devise some plan to get him away for that length of time. He had relations in Guilford, and we hinted to him that it would be pleasant for him to spend a few months with his Guilford friends, but he did not seem inclined to go. I finally hit upon an expedient that I thought would effect our design.

A journeyman hatter, named Benton, worked for my uncle Nichols. He was fond of a joke. I induced him to call “Uncle Bibbins” a coward, tell him he had been wounded in the back, etc., and thus provoke a duel. He did so, and at my suggestion “Uncle Bibbins” challenged Benton to fight him with musket and ball at a distance of twenty yards.

The challenge was accepted, I was chosen second by “Uncle Bibbins,” and the duel was to come off immediately. My principal, taking me aside, begged me to put nothing in the guns but blank cartridges. I assured him it should be so, and therefore that he might feel perfectly safe. This gave the old man extra courage, and caused him to brag tremendously. He declared that he had not been so long in bloody battles for nothing, and that he would put a bullet through Benton’s heart at the first shot.

The ground was measured in the lot at the rear of our store, and the principals and seconds took their places. At the word given both parties fired. “Uncle Bibbins,” of course, escaped unhurt, but Benton leaped several feet into the air, and fell upon the ground with a dreadful yell, as if he had been really shot. “Uncle Bibbins” was frightened. As his second I ran to him, told him that in my hurry to take the ball from Benton’s gun, I had by some mistake neglected to extract the bullet from his, and that he had undoubtedly killed his adversary. I then whispered to him to go immediately to Guilford, to keep quiet, and he should hear from me as soon as it would be safe to do so. He started up the street on a run, and immediately quit the town for Guilford, where he kept himself quiet until it was time for him to return and sign his papers. I then wrote him that “he could return in safety, that almost miraculously his adversary had recovered from his wound, and now forgave him all, as he felt himself much to blame for having in the first place insulted a man of his known courage.”

“Uncle Bibbins” returned, signed the papers, and we obtained the pension money. A few days thereafter he met Benton.

“My brave old friend,” said Benton, “I forgive you my terrible wound and long confinement on the very brink of the grave, and I beg of you to forgive me also. I insulted you without a cause.”

“I forgive you freely,” said “Uncle Bibbins;” “but,” he continued, “you must be careful next time how you insult a dead shot.”

Benton promised to be more circumspect in future, and “Uncle Bibbins” supposed to the day of his death that the duel, wound, blood and all, was a plain matter of fact.

Perhaps I should apologize for devoting so much space, as I have done in the foregoing pages, to practical jokes and other incidents not immediately relating to myself. I was born and reared in an atmosphere of merriment; my natural bias was developed and strengthened by the associations of my youth; and I feel myself entitled to record the sayings and doings of the wags and eccentricities of Bethel, because they partly explain the causes which have made me what I am.

CHAPTER VI

Incidents and Various Schemes

A Toe-string – Spirit of Speculation – On my own Hook – Youthful Restlessness – Successful Experiment – Extending Business – Swearing out the Balance – Seeing the Elephant – Forcing a Settlement – Pettifogging – The Speech Spoiled – My Maiden Plea – A Cheap Wedding – The Disappointed Squire – The Quack Dentist – Geese Feathers – Consultation – The Love-Letter – Vinegar and Honey – Poetical Appeal – Tender-lines – The Compromise – Extravagant Living – A Close Shave – Useful Information – Facts and Figures – The Lottery Mania – Plot and Counterplot – My Marriage – The Irish Peddler – The Mock Trial – Motion to Adjourn – A Real Lawyer – A Scattering Court – Judge Parsons – House keeping – Religious Excitement – Sectarian Politics – The Herald of Freedom – The Libel Suit – In Jail – The Day of Jubilee – Balancing Accounts.

IN the autumn of 1826 Mr. Oliver Taylor, who had removed from Danbury to Brooklyn, Long Island, a few years previously, offered me the position of clerk in his grocery store. He had also a large comb factory in Brooklyn and a comb store in New York. I accepted Mr. Taylor’s offer. The store was at the corner of Sands and Pearl streets.

Many of our customers were early ones, to buy articles for their breakfasts, and I was obliged to rise before daylight. This was so different from my previous habits, that I had much difficulty in waking in the morning. To aid me in my endeavors at diligence, I arranged with a watchman, at two shillings per week, to pull a string which hung out of my chamber-window in the third story, one end being fastened to my big toe.

The arrangement fully answered the purpose, but Mr. Taylor became acquainted with it, through the watchman I believe; and on one occasion there was a more violent pulling than I had bargained for. I howled with pain, ran to the window, and bade the watchman desist, else he would pull my toe off. Not suspecting a trick, I dressed myself, went down stairs, and discovered that it was only half-past twelve o’clock! It was a long time before I ascertained who my tormentor was, though I might reasonably have suspected Oliver; but after that adventure I managed to wake without assistance, and discharged the watchman in toto.

I had not been long in Mr. Taylor’s employment before I became conversant with the routine of the business, and the purchasing of all the goods for the store was soon intrusted to me. I bought for cash entirely, and thus was enabled to exercise my judgment in making purchases – sometimes going into all sections of the lower part of the city in search of the cheapest markets for groceries. I also frequently attended the wholesale auctions of teas, sugars, molasses, etc., so that by watching the sales, noting the prices, and recording the names of buyers, I knew what profits they were realizing, and how far I could probably beat them down for cash. At these auctions I occasionally made the acquaintance of several grocers who wanted small lots of the goods offered for sale, and we frequently clubbed together and bid off a lot which, being divided between us, gave each about the quantity he desired, and at a reduced price from what we should have been compelled to pay if the goods had passed into other hands and thus been taxed with another profit.

My employer manifested great interest in me, and treated me with the utmost kindness, but the situation did not suit me. The fact is, there are some persons so constituted that they can never be satisfied to labor for a fixed salary, let it be never so great. I am one of that sort. My disposition is, and ever was, of a speculative character, and I am never content to engage in any business unless it is of such a nature that my profits may be greatly enhanced by an increase of energy, perseverance, attention to business, tact, etc. As therefore I had no opportunity to speculate on my own account in this Brooklyn store, I soon became uneasy. Young as I was, (and probably because I was so young,) I began to think seriously of going into business for myself, and although I had no capital to start on, several men of means had offered to furnish the money and join me in business. I was just then at an uneasy age – in a transition state – neither boy nor man – an age when it is of the highest importance that a youth should have some discreet friend and instructor on whose good counsel he can rely. How self-conceited, generally, are boys from sixteen to eighteen years old. They feel that they are fully competent to transact business which persons much older than they, know requires many years’ experience. This is the age, too, when the “eighteen-year-old fever” is apt to make fools of young men in other than a business point of view. Boys of this age, and girls of twelve to sixteen, are undoubtedly the most disagreeable persons in the world. They are so wild, so stubborn and self-sufficient, that reflecting parents have great reason for deep anxiety as to the “turn” which they may take.

In the summer of 1827 I caught the small-pox, which, although I had been vaccinated successfully some eight years previously, assumed a very severe type of varioloid. This confined me to the house for several months. The expense attending my sickness made a sad inroad upon my funds. As soon as I was sufficiently recovered, I started for home to spend a few weeks in recruiting my health, taking passage on board a sloop for Norwalk. When the passengers, numbering twenty ladies and gentlemen, came on board, they were frightened at the appearance of my face, which still bore strong marks of the disease from which I had just recovered. By an unanimous vote I was requested to go on shore, and Captain Munson Hoyt, whom I well knew, having been in the habit of visiting his sloop weekly for the purchase of butter, eggs, etc., informed me that he was pained in conveying to me the wishes of the affrighted passengers. Of course I felt compelled to comply, and left the sloop with a heavy heart. I lodged that night at Holt’s old hotel in Fulton street, and the next morning went to Norwalk by steamboat, reaching Bethel the same afternoon.

I spent several weeks with my mother, who was unremitting in her exertions to make me comfortable. During my convalescence I visited my old schoolmates and neighbors generally, and had several opportunities of slightly renewing the short acquaintance which I had formed with the attractive tailoress “Chairy Hallett,” while escorting her on horseback, from Grassy Plains to Bethel, in the thunder shower. These opportunities did not lessen the regard which I felt for the young lady, nor did they serve to render my sleep any sounder. However, “I did not tell my love,” and the “worm in the bud” did not feed on my “pock-marked cheek.”

At the end of four weeks I again left the maternal roof and departed for Brooklyn. In a short time I made arrangements for opening a porter-house on “my own hook,” in the neighborhood of the grocery store; and, giving Mr. Taylor the requisite notice of my desire to leave his employment, he engaged a practised hand as my successor, and I opened the porter-house. Within a few months I found an opportunity of selling out to advantage, and as I had a good offer to engage as clerk in a similar establishment kept by Mr. David Thorp, 29 Peck Slip, New York, I sold out and removed thither. Mr. Thorp’s place was a great resort of the Danbury and Bethel comb-makers, hatters, etc., and this giving me a constant opportunity of seeing my townsmen, made it very agreeable. I boarded in Mr. Thorp’s family, who used me very kindly. He allowed me frequent opportunities of visiting the theatre with such of my companions as came to New York. I had much taste for the drama – soon became, in my own opinion, a close critic, and did not fail to exhibit my powers in this respect to all the juveniles from Connecticut who accompanied me to the theatre.

My habits generally were not bad. Although constantly engaged in selling liquor to others, I probably never drank a pint of liquor, wine, or cordials, before I was twenty-two years of age. I always attended church regularly, and was never without a Bible in my trunk, which I took frequent occasion to read.

In February, 1828, my grandfather wrote me that if I would come to Bethel and establish some kind of business for myself, he would allow me to occupy, rent free, one half of his carriage-house. I had a strong desire to return to my native village, and after several weeks’ reflection I accepted his offer.

The carriage-house referred to was situated on the public street in Bethel, and I concluded to finish off one part of it, and open a retail fruit and confectionery store. Before leaving New York, I consulted several fruit dealers with whom I was acquainted, and made arrangements for sending them my orders. I then went to Bethel, arranged the building, put in a small stock of goods, including a barrel of ale, and opened my establishment on the first Monday morning in May, 1828, that being our military training day.

The hopes and fears which agitated me for weeks previously to this my first grand opening, have probably never had a parallel in all my subsequent adventures. I was worth about one hundred and twenty dollars, and I invested all I possessed in this enterprise. It cost me fifty dollars to fit up my little store, and seventy dollars more purchased my stock in trade. I am suspicious that I received little good from attending church the day previously to opening my store, for I distinctly remember being greatly exercised in mind for fear it would rain the next day, and thus diminish the number of customers for my cakes, candies, nuts, raisins, etc.

I was up betimes on Monday morning, and was delighted to find the weather propitious. The country people began to flock into the village at an early hour, and the novelty of my little shop, which was set out in as good style as I was capable of, attracted their attention. I soon had plenty to do, and before noon was obliged to call in one of my old school-mates to assist me in waiting upon my numerous customers. Business continued brisk during the whole day and evening, and when I closed I had the satisfaction of counting out sixty-three dollars as my day’s receipts! My entire barrel of ale was sold, but the assortment of other goods was not broken up, nor apparently very seriously diminished, so that although I had received the entire cost of my goods, less seven dollars, the stock on hand showed that my profits had been excellent.

I need not attempt to relate how gratified I was by the result of my first day’s experiment. I considered my little store as a “fixed fact,” and such it proved to be. I put in another barrel of ale, and proceeding to New York, expended all of my money for a small stock of fancy goods, and such articles as I thought would find a ready sale. My assortment included pocket-books, combs, beads, cheap finger-rings, pocket-knives, and a few toys. My business continued good during the summer, and in the fall I added stewed oysters to my assortment.

My grandfather had great pleasure in my success, and advised me to take the agency of some lottery dealer for the sale of lottery tickets on commission. Lotteries were at that time legal in Connecticut, and were generally considered as legitimate a branch of business as any other. I therefore adopted my grandfather’s advice, and obtained an agency for selling lottery tickets on a commission of ten per cent. This business, connected with the fruit, confectionery, oyster, and toy establishment, rendered my profits quite satisfactory.

On one occasion a young man of my acquaintance called to examine some pocket-books. He inquired the prices, and finally selected one that pleased him. He said he would take it, but he desired me to give him a credit on it for a few weeks. I told him that had he wanted any article of necessity which I had for sale, I would not object to trusting him a short time, but it struck me that a pocket-book was something of a superfluity for a person who had no money. He replied that it did not strike him in that light, and that he did not see why it was not as proper to seek credit for a pocket-book as for any thing else. He however failed to convince me of the necessity of his possessing such an article until he had something to put into it, and I therefore declined his proposition.

My little store became a favorite resort for the men in our village, and many is the good practical joke that was enacted there.

Danbury is situated about eight miles east of the line which separates the State of Connecticut from that of New York. Several eccentric individuals from “York State” were in the habit of visiting Bethel. Among these was a gray-headed old miller whom I will call Crofut. Another was Mr. Hackariah Bailey, always for short called “Hack Bailey.” Crofut was a very profane man. Almost every other word was an oath. He had become so confirmed in a habit of swearing, that he was quite unaware of the extent of his profanity. He was a man of wealth. He generally visited Bethel to dispose of wheat-flour, bringing it in bags piled up to the very top of a large wagon, drawn by a pair of splendid horses. Crofut and Bailey were both self-willed men. When their minds were made up, there was no turning them. Hack Bailey was a showman. He imported the first elephant that was ever brought to this country, and made a fortune by exhibiting it. He was afterwards extensively engaged in travelling menageries, and subsequently was very successful in running opposition steamboats upon the North River. He built a fine hotel in Somers, N. Y., the place of his residence, called it the Elephant Hotel, and erected a large stone pillar in front of it, on which he placed a golden elephant.

One day, Crofut was in my little store, engaged in conversation with many of our neighbors, who were always sure to congregate about him whenever he came to the village. His language as usual partook largely of the profane. Nathan Seelye, Esq., one of our village justices of the peace, who was a strict man in his religious principles, came in, and hearing the conversation told Mr. Crofut that he considered it his duty to fine him one dollar for swearing.

Crofut responded immediately with an oath, that he did not care a d – n for the Connecticut blue-laws.

“That will make two dollars,” said Mr. Seelye.

This brought forth another oath.

“Three dollars,” said the sturdy justice.

Nothing but oaths were given in reply, until Esquire Seelye declared the damage to the Connecticut laws to amount to fifteen dollars.

Crofut took out a twenty-dollar bill, and handed it to the justice of the peace, with an oath.

“Sixteen dollars,” said Mr. Seelye, counting out four dollars to hand to Mr. Crofut, as his change.

“Oh, keep it, keep it,” said Crofut, “I don’t want any change, I’ll d—n soon swear out the balance” – and he did so, after which he was more circumspect in his conversation, remarking that twenty dollars a day for swearing was about as much as he could stand.

“Hack Bailey,” after making many thousand dollars by the exhibition of his elephant, concluded to take the world a little easier, and in order to avoid the necessity of travelling any more through the country, he sold one half of his interest in the animal to a showman, who agreed to exhibit the elephant and account to Hack for one half the receipts.

After the partner had been absent some weeks, Hack began to look with some anxiety for a remittance. Nothing came, however, and he wrote to his partner to inquire the cause. He received no reply. At last, becoming impatient, he took the stage to Boston, and in the course of a few days overtook his partner at New Bedford, Mass. Hack asked him why he had not remitted his portion of the profits. He was assured, in reply, that there were no profits, that the expenses swallowed them all, etc.

Hack knew better than this, for he had heard that the elephant had drawn large crowds wherever he went, and he saw that many hundreds of persons visited the exhibition in New Bedford. He therefore insisted on a settlement.

“I will settle with you when I return next fall; I have no time now,” replied the stubborn partner.

This reply strengthened Hack’s conviction that his chance for the profits under the present management was a very slim one. He then offered to sell his interest in the elephant to his partner.

“I have elephant stock enough now,” was the reply.

“Well, I will buy out your interest,” said Hack.

“No, I thank you, I don’t care about selling; I am very well satisfied as it is.”