Red Devils - 4 - More from Phineas Barnum

After a delicious lunch of soup, bread, and meat pie, prepared and served by the cook, Mrs. Seeley, we took our coffee cups back into the parlor to drink while hearing more of Mr. Barnum’s story. He kept talking all through the meal, and when he asked us what some of our other friends were writing about, and we mentioned Mark Twain, he was very pleased. He said he was good friends with Samuel Clemens and his wife, and they would be coming to visit him next month. He asked if we would like to come along and meet them too. Boy, were we quick to say yes to that. We asked if our classmate who was doing the project might also come, and Mr. Barnum said, “Of course, bring the whole class if you want to.”

We settled again in the parlor, and Mr. Barnum took up where he had left off.

“I was brought up to go regularly to church on Sunday. Do you girls go to Church?”

“Yes, we go to St. Mary’s Catholic church.”

“Well in those days in our town there was only one church and it was of the Presbyterian faith, so everyone went to it no matter what their creed. I hated it. It was cold and our teeth were chattering, our noses blue. 

“Rev. Mr. Lowe's formed a bible class. And we had to draw a text of scripture and write a composition on the text, and those were read after the service in the afternoons. Once I drew the text, Luke x. 42: "But one thing is needful; and Mary hath chosen that good part which shall not be taken away from her.” Question," What is the one thing needful?" Here is my answer.

“'This question, What is the one thing needful? is capable of receiving various answers, depending much upon the persons to whom it is addressed. The merchant might answer that 'the one thing needful' is plenty of customers, who buy liberally, without beating down, and pay cash for all their purchases.' The farmer might reply that 'the one thing needful is large harvests and high prices.' The physician might answer that 'it is plenty of patients.' The lawyer might be of opinion that 'it is an unruly community, always engaging in bickerings and litigations.' The clergyman might reply, 'It is a fat salary, with multitudes of sinners seeking salvation and paying large pew rents.' The bachelor might exclaim, 'It is a pretty wife who loves her husband, and who knows how to sew on buttons.' The maiden might answer, 'It is a good husband, who will love, cherish and protect me while life shall last.' But the most proper answer, and doubtless that which applied to the case of Mary, would be, 'The one thing needful is to believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, follow in His footsteps, love God and obey His commandments, love our fellowman, and embrace every opportunity of administering to his necessities.'

“After it was read, I had the satisfaction of hearing Mr. Lowe say that it was a well-written answer to the question. Well, what has that to do with anything, you might ask, and I might well have to say, I don’t really know. But I do know that I have all my life tried to live by the good news and do the best I can for my fellowmen, and I hope you girls will do that too.

“Now in 1825 my grandmother met with an accident in stepping on the point of a rusty nail, which shortly afterwards resulted in her death. She was a woman of great piety, and before she died sent for each of her grandchildren - to whom she was devoted - and besought them to lead a Christian life. I was so deeply impressed by that death-bed scene that through my whole life neither the recollection of it, nor of the dying woman's words, ever left me. Tell me girls, do you have a grandmother still?”

“Yes, sir, our mother’s mother lives here with us too. Aunt Lillie is her daughter. Grandma is 65.”

“Well, I hope you girls will be good to her and remember well what she tells you to do. Now let’s see, I am supposed to be telling you about my whole life, and I haven’t got very far yet.”

“Not long after my grandmother died, my father, after a six months' illness, did too, at the age of forty-eight, leaving a wife and five children and an insolvent estate. There was literally nothing left for the family; the creditors seized everything; even the small sum which I had loaned my father was held to be the property of a minor, and therefore belonging to the estate. I was obliged to borrow money to buy the shoes I wore to the funeral. At fifteen I went out into the world not only penniless but barefooted.

“I went to Grassy Plain, a few miles northwest of Bethel, where I managed to obtain a clerkship at the magnificent salary of six dollars a month and board. I worked hard and faithfully, and so gained the esteem of my employers that they afforded me many opportunities for making money on my own account. My small speculations proved so successful that before long I found myself in possession of quite a little sum.

“My mother still continued to keep the village hotel at Bethel, and I went home every Saturday night, going to church with my mother on Sunday, and returning to work Monday morning.

“In the fall of 1826, Oliver Taylor induced me to leave Grassy Plain, offering me a clerkship in his grocery store, which offer was accepted, and before long I was intrusted with the purchasing of all goods for the store. I bought for cash, going into lower New York in search of the cheapest market, frequenting auction sales of merchandise, and often entering into combines with other grocers to bid off large lots, which were afterward divided between us.

“Later on my grandfather offered to me, rent free, his carriage-house, which was situated on the main street, if I would come back to Bethel. My capital was one hundred and twenty dollars; fifty of this was spent in fixing up his store, and the remainder I invested in a stock of fruit and confectionery. Having arranged with fruit dealers of my acquaintance in New York to receive my orders, I opened my store on the first of May. The first day was so successful that long before noon I was obliged to call in one of my old schoolmates to assist in waiting on customers. The total receipts were sixty-three dollars, which sum was promptly invested in a stock of fancy goods - pocket-books, combs, knives, rings, beads, etc. Business was good all summer, and in the fall oysters were added to the list of attractions. My old grandfather was delighted at the success of the scheme, and after a while induced me to take an agency for lottery tickets on a commission of ten percent. Lotteries in those days were looked upon as thoroughly respectable, and the profit gained from the sale of the tickets was regarded as perfectly legitimate.

“The store soon became the great village resort, the center of all discussions and the scene of many practical jokes.”

“Phineas, these girls don’t have a week to listen to all your stories. They want to hear something thing about the circus - not all about every little thing that happened in your life. Tell them about when you hired the Indians for your show,” said Nancy.

“This was a long time after I started. I engaged a bunch of Indians from Iowa. The party comprised of large and noble specimens of the untutored savage, as well as several very beautiful squaws, with two or three interesting papooses. They lived and lodged in a large room on the top floor of the Museum, and cooked their own victuals in their own way. They gave their war-dances on the stage in the Lecture Room with great vigor and enthusiasm, much to the satisfaction of the audiences. But these wild Indians seemed to consider their dances as realities. Hence, when they gave a real war-dance, it was dangerous for anyone, except for me and the interpreter to be on the stage, for the moment they had finished their war-dance, they began to leap and peer about behind the scenes in search of victims for their tomahawks and scalping knives! Indeed, lest in these frenzied moments they might make a dash at the orchestra or the audience, I had a high rope barrier placed between them and the savages on the front of the stage.

"After they had been a week in the Museum," he said, "I proposed a change of performance for the week following by introducing new dances. Among these was the Indian wedding dance. At that time I printed but one set of posters per week, so that whatever was announced for Monday was repeated every day and evening during that week. Before the wedding dance came off on Monday afternoon, I was informed that I was to provide a large, new, red woolen blanket, at a cost of ten dollars, for the bridegroom to present to the father of the bride. I ordered the purchase to be made, but was considerably taken aback when I was informed that I must have another new blanket for the evening, inasmuch as the savage old Indian chief, father-in-law to the bridegroom, would not consent to his daughter's being approached with the wedding dance unless he had his blanket present.

"I undertook to explain to the chief, through the interpreter, that this was only a 'make believe' wedding; but the old savage shrugged his shoulders, and gave such a terrific 'Ugh!' that I was glad to make my peace by ordering another blanket. As we gave two performances per day, I was out of pocket $120 for twelve wedding blankets that week.

“One of the beautiful squaws named Do-humme died in the Museum.  The poor Indians were very sorrowful for many days, and desired to get back again to their Western wilds. The father and the betrothed of Do-humme cooked various dishes of food and placed them upon the roof of the Museum, where they believed the spirit of their departed friend came daily for its supply; and these dishes were renewed every morning during the stay of the Indians at the Museum.”

“What was the very first circus act you had, Mr. Barnum?”

“Well I don’t think it is right to call what I did for the first thirty or so years, a circus. I employed acts and showed them to the public. I was a showman. And the acts tended in the beginning to be rare and unusual people. My first one, in 1835 was a remarkable Negro woman,  and I saw an advertisement in The Pennsylvania Inquirer for July 15, 1835, as follows:

"CURIOSITY - The citizens of Philadelphia and its vicinity have an opportunity of witnessing at the Masonic Hall one of the greatest natural curiosities ever witnessed, viz.: JOICE HETH, a Negress, aged 161 years, who formerly belonged to the father of General Washington. She has been a member of the Baptist Church one hundred and sixteen years, and can rehearse many hymns, and sing them according to former custom. She was born near the old Potomac River in Virginia, and has for ninety or one hundred years lived in Paris, Kentucky, with the Bowling family.

"Joice Heth," he said, "was certainly a remarkable curiosity, and she looked as if she might have been far older than her age as advertised. She was apparently in good health and spirits, but from age or disease, or both, was unable to change her position; she could move one arm at will, but her lower limbs could not be straightened; her left arm lay across her breast and she could not remove it; the fingers of her left hand were drawn down so as nearly to close it, and were fixed; the nails on that hand were almost four inches long and extended above her wrist; the nails on her large toes had grown to the thickness of a quarter of an inch; her head was covered with a thick bush of gray hair; but she was toothless and totally blind, and her eyes had sunk so deeply in the sockets as to have disappeared altogether.

"Nevertheless she was pert and sociable, and would talk as long as people would converse with her. She was quite garrulous about her protege, 'dear little George,' at whose birth she declared she was present, having been at the time a slave of Elizabeth Atwood, a half-sister of Augustine Washington, the father of George Washington. As nurse she put the first clothes on the infant, and she claimed to have 'raised him.' She professed to be a member of the Baptist Church, talking much in her way on religious subjects, and she sang a variety of ancient hymns.

“I bought her for $1000 and so I sold out my interest in the grocery business to my partner, and entered upon my career as a showman. I entered upon my new work with enterprise, resorting to posters, transparencies, advertisements, newspaper paragraphs, and everything else calculated to attract the attention of the public, regardless of expense. I exhibited in New York, Boston, Philadelphia, Albany, and many other places, where my rooms were thronged and much money made. But in the following February Joice Heth died of old age, and was buried at Bethel. A postmortem examination was made by a surgeon and some medical students, who were inclined to doubt if she really was as old as she said. I always felt a bit guilty about how I possibly had misled the public about her age.

“After that I got some stilt walkers, and some singers and dancers, and then my famous midgets. The most popular exhibits were the freaks - but I don’t mean that in a negatives sense. They were just different from how God made most people. There were Siamese twins, joined at the hip, and a lady with a beard, and a man with tattoos all over his body. There was the tallest woman in the world, and so on. After a few years and having made lots of money, I opened a Museum in New York, and had that going all year round, but also had some of my Acts touring the country. But it wasn’t until 1871 that I started having what you might call a circus - with a big top and a ring and the trained animal act.