CHAPTER IV

TRAVELS WITH A MIDGET

I

After a long and stormy passage of nineteen days, during which Barnum entertained the passengers with choice samples of practical jokes, the packet _Yorkshire_ arrived at Liverpool. A crowd was waiting on the docks to look at General Tom Thumb, for it had been announced that he would arrive on the _Yorkshire_, and the fame of his popularity in America had spread to England even before Barnum had decided on the venture abroad. But Mrs. Stratton managed to smuggle her little treasure ashore without attracting notice.

For the first time in his life as a showman, except in the early days of his struggle for opportunities, Barnum was deeply depressed at his prospects. After he had been in Liverpool only a few days, disheartening and panicky sensations overcame his natural exuberance. He was among strangers, and he was homesick; everything appeared different, and the foreign atmosphere took on the shape of a ghostly hostility in Barnum’s mind. He tells us that as the boat was leaving the dock in New York, he was in “the melting mood,” and soon after his arrival in Liverpool this thirty-three-year-old showman, whose reputation for bold enterprise had already spread throughout a large part of the United States, sat down in his dismal hotel room and had a good cry. The cause of this dejection was doubt of his ability to succeed in different surroundings, and regret that he had so hastily made the attempt. These in turn were caused by several encounters and predictions of his first days in England. The proprietor of a Liverpool waxworks called at the hotel; he had heard of the arrival of General Tom Thumb, and he was anxious to add this unique curiosity to his collection of waxworks at ten dollars per week for both the curiosity and the manager. Soon afterwards Madame Céleste, who was performing at the Theater Royal in Williamson Square, presented her compliments to Mr. Barnum and invited him to use her private box. In the box adjoining were a dignified lady and gentleman, who looked with approval at General Tom Thumb, partly hidden from the audience by his tutor’s cloak. They became interested in the General as soon as they learned who he was and urged Barnum to exhibit him in Manchester, where they lived. Barnum asked how much they thought he could charge for admission in Manchester, and the lady answered that since the General was such a decided curiosity, she thought twopence for each person would not be too much. But her husband cried nonsense, remarked that women knew nothing of such things, and assured Barnum that one penny was the usual price for seeing giants and dwarfs in England, and that the public would never pay more. It was this conversation more than anything else that caused Barnum to wish he were in New York, where admission was twenty-five cents, children half-price, and he swore solemnly to himself that General Tom Thumb should never be seen for less than a shilling a head.

It had been Barnum’s plan to proceed at once to London, but he learned that the royal family was in mourning because of the death of Prince Albert’s father, and he had made up his mind before he had been in England one week to present General Tom Thumb at Buckingham Palace, which, he naïvely admits, he intended to appropriate as his headquarters. Meanwhile, he presented his letters of introduction in Liverpool, and was induced by friends to hire a hall and give a few exhibitions. Mr. Maddox, of the Princess’s Theater, London, visited Liverpool incognito with the special purpose of sizing up Tom Thumb and possibly proposing an engagement to Barnum. An arrangement was made for three appearances at the Princess’s Theater, for Barnum was unwilling to contract with another showman for any long engagement, and he consented to the exhibition at the Princess’s only for the purposes of advertisement.

To his first three performances in London General Tom Thumb attracted large crowds, and Barnum once more felt sanguine. He declined an offer for a reëngagement and prepared to exploit his prodigy on a grand scale. He hired Lord Talbot’s mansion in Grafton Street, where Lord Brougham was one of his neighbors, and from this house he sent invitations to the nobility and the editors to visit General Tom Thumb. They came in large numbers and told their friends about the General. The friends, who were not invited, also came in large numbers, and were turned away by the butler. Barnum was in England, and he planned to do what no English showman would have dared to do: he treated himself, unobtrusively, as an equal of every one from the Queen to the coster. But he also catered to their opinions of themselves. He realized that he must maintain a dignity, if he was to receive upper-class patronage, and he instructed the servants to admit no one to the private at-homes of General Tom Thumb without a ticket of invitation. But he was always careful to send invitations the next day to all those who had not been admitted. The premonitions of failure which he had suffered in Liverpool made Barnum certain that the only way to establish Tom Thumb financially in England was to make him the darling of fashion; the common people could be trusted to follow in the tracks of their betters. And Barnum knew also that the one road to sure success lay in the direction of approval by Her Majesty the Queen. He therefore turned all his persistent and cunning attention towards this consummation.

Since the Court was in mourning, it was extremely doubtful that he could be received, but as it was not impossible, Barnum refused to relinquish the hope. Horace Greeley, one of Barnum’s best friends and an adviser to whom he always listened attentively, had given him a letter of introduction to Edward Everett, American Minister to the Court of St. James’s, and Barnum admitted that “to that letter, perhaps more than to anything else, I was indebted for my first introduction to Her Majesty.” It was fortunate for Barnum that he had such a letter of introduction, if we are to take the word of a keen observer of the times on the personality of Edward Everett. Maunsell B. Field, whose book, _Memories of Many Men and Some Women_, is one of the most interesting American books of reminiscences, visited Edward Everett at the American Ministry about the same time as Barnum. Field was then a young man traveling for his education; later he became one of New York’s eminent lawyers and the partner of John Jay, but Edward Everett could not be expected to foresee that. “I found Mr. Everett,” Field wrote, “as frigid as an iceberg. He was as polished as his own writings, but equally cold. To a young man just out of college, this sort of reception operated like a wet blanket. After my first call, I never ventured upon him again. I feared taking cold.” But Everett was quite different with Barnum. During his first week in London the American Minister called and was delighted with General Tom Thumb. They dined with the Minister next day, and the Everett family gave Tom Thumb many presents. Mr. Everett promised to use all his influence at the Palace to insure a presentation before Queen Victoria.

Meanwhile, the Baroness Rothschild sent her carriage for General Tom Thumb and his guardian. Barnum and his tiny ward passed a cordon of liveried servants and walked into a brilliant hall, lined with statuary. They ascended a flight of magnificent marble stairs and were announced by an elegant servant. The Baroness was seated on a “gorgeous couch,” and lords and ladies everywhere were sitting on gold chairs that looked to Barnum like solid gold, “except the bottoms, which were rich velvet.” Ebony, pearl, and gold dazzled Barnum’s eyes wherever he looked, and when they were about to leave after a session of two hours, a fat purse was quietly slipped into Barnum’s hand. That, too, contained gold. Other receptions at the homes of other bankers and members of the nobility followed, and they invariably ended with some one slipping a fat purse into Barnum’s hand.

Barnum thought that the time had now come for a public exhibition. It was true that he had not yet seen the Queen, or, rather, the Queen had not yet seen him and his child wonder; but he must not wait longer and lose the shillings per head that were ripe and ready to drop into his purse. There was also danger that the _haut ton_ would monopolize General Tom Thumb, and the shillings of the multitude were more valuable in Barnum’s eyes than the generous admiration of lords and ladies of fashion. He engaged Egyptian Hall in Piccadilly, and the élite flocked to the exhibitions, followed by enough of the common people to pay large profits.

One morning at breakfast at the house of Edward Everett, Barnum met Mr. Charles Murray, the Master of the Royal Household, who had visited the United States and written a book about them. Barnum happened to have read the book, and he assured Murray how much he admired the opinion of the Master of the Royal Household on the American people. He also hinted that he intended to take General Tom Thumb over to Paris to see Louis Philippe. Mr. Murray felt sure that Queen Victoria would want to see the General before Louis Philippe; and he was correct. Soon afterwards a handsome member of the Life Guards brought Barnum a note inviting General Tom Thumb and his guardian, Mr. Barnum, to appear at Buckingham Palace. Mr. Murray called the same day and told Barnum that it was Her Majesty’s command that General Tom Thumb should appear before her as he would appear anywhere else; she did not want him primed with etiquette, she wished to see him in his natural state.

On the night of the appointment at the Palace, Barnum placed a placard on the door of Egyptian Hall, reading: “Closed this evening, General Tom Thumb being at Buckingham Palace by command of Her Majesty.” When they arrived at the Palace, Barnum was told by a Lord-in-Waiting that he must answer all questions addressed to him by Her Majesty through the Lord-in-Waiting, and under no circumstances must the Queen be addressed directly. He was also told that in leaving the presence of the Queen he must “back out,” so that the Queen always saw his face; and the Lord-in-Waiting illustrated his instructions by a few steps in the proper direction.

Everything was then quite clear, and the party was conducted up a marble staircase to the Queen’s picture gallery, where Her Majesty, Prince Albert, the Duchess of Kent, and about twenty of the nobility were waiting. General Tom Thumb strutted proudly up the long gallery towards the end of which the royal party was standing, and as soon as he came within speaking distance, bowed deeply and said in his high treble voice, “Good evening, Ladies and Gentlemen.” Every one laughed merrily at the dwarf’s simplicity, but the dwarf did not mean to be facetious; he thought they _were_ ladies and gentlemen. Queen Victoria took his hand and led him about the picture gallery, asking him many questions, and his answers caused her to laugh continually. He informed the Queen that her picture gallery was “first-rate,” one of his common expressions of approval, and he expressed a desire to see the Prince of Wales. But the Queen regretted that the Prince of Wales was in bed, and invited General Tom Thumb to call again, when he would see him. The General sang and danced for the company, and after conversations with Prince Albert and other members of the party, lasting more than an hour, Barnum and General Tom Thumb made ready to leave the royal presence.

Barnum had been talking with the Queen while General Tom Thumb was entertaining Prince Albert. After two or three questions, put through the Lord-in-Waiting and answered via that official, Barnum began to feel uncomfortable, and he entered directly into conversation with the Queen. The Lord-in-Waiting was shocked, but Victoria did not seem to object, for she immediately entered into direct conversation with Barnum.

The time for backing out arrived, and Barnum mollified the Lord-in-Waiting by following carefully his instructions and example. But General Tom Thumb’s legs were short, and he found his manager and the Lord-in-Waiting were retreating towards the door more rapidly than he could step backwards. The General turned and ran a few steps, then faced again towards the Queen and respectfully bowed and walked backwards, continuing this method of catching up whenever he found himself behind in the race for the door. The royal party found these antics of the little General delightful, and Barnum said that the spectacle of Tom Thumb’s little feet running through the room and then solemnly stepping backwards was a performance funnier than any he had ever seen the General give. Barnum, six feet two in height, and General Tom Thumb two feet one in height, bowing respectfully as possible under the circumstances, was assuredly a sight to set before a Queen; the droll contrast of the dwarf and his manager should have been enough to make even Prince Albert giggle. The sight was not displeasing to the Queen, but it was to her poodle-dog, who barked sharply at General Tom Thumb and made for his legs. The General, frightened out of all propriety, raised his little cane and attacked the poodle, causing more merriment than ever. When they finally arrived in the ante-room, an attendant hurried after them to ask in the name of the Queen whether the General had been injured.

In another room refreshments were served, but Barnum could not enjoy them; he was thinking of something else. He asked who edited the Court Circular and was told that the gentleman happened to be in the Palace at the time. He was sent for, and Barnum asked if it would be possible for him to have more than a mere mention of the audience. The editor was quite willing to give Barnum a favorable notice and asked him to write out what he wished printed. Barnum did so, and, much to his delight, his own words were printed the next day in all the newspapers. The Court Circular said in part: “His personation of the Emperor Napoleon elicited great mirth, and this was followed by a representation of the Grecian Statues, after which the General danced a nautical hornpipe, and sang several of his favorite songs.”

The audience with the Queen, and the newspaper notices of it, caused such a demand for a sight of General Tom Thumb that Barnum was forced to engage a larger room in Egyptian Hall. A second visit to the Queen soon followed, and this time the General was received in the Yellow Drawing Room, draped entirely in yellow satin damask, with sofas and chairs of the same material, “surpassing in splendor and gorgeousness anything of the kind” Barnum had ever seen. As Barnum and General Tom Thumb entered the room, the Queen and her suite were leaving the dining-room. The General remarked familiarly that he had seen her before, and praised the Yellow Drawing Room enthusiastically. “I think this is a prettier room than the picture gallery; that chandelier is very fine,” he said.

He was introduced by the Queen to the Prince of Wales. They shook hands cordially, and General Tom Thumb measured his height against that of the Prince, remarking, “The Prince is taller than I am, but I _feel_ as big as anybody.” Then he strutted up and down the room in mock pride, to the delight of the audience. The Queen introduced the Princess Royal, and Tom Thumb led her immediately to a sofa built for his size, which Barnum had brought along, and chatted familiarly with her tête-à-tête. The Queen then handed the General a souvenir made expressly for him, an elegant ornament of mother-of-pearl set in emeralds and enameled with the General’s coat of arms, although what that was would be interesting to discover, for Barnum advertised Tom Thumb as the son of a carpenter. General Tom Thumb told the Queen that he was very much obliged and would keep her souvenir as long as he lived. The Queen of the Belgians was present at this second visit, and on a third visit to Buckingham Palace which they paid soon afterwards, King Leopold was also present.

It was on this third visit that General Tom Thumb noticed a Shetland pony, belonging to the Queen, outside the Palace. It was just suited to Tom Thumb’s size, and he coveted it. When they came before the Queen, she asked the General to sing his favorite song, and he sang “Yankee Doodle,” causing much merriment by his controversial choice. But the General was not thinking of the Revolutionary War; he was thinking of the pony, which he dared not ask for. While singing “Yankee Doodle” to the Queen, he pointed his finger significantly at her when he came to the line, “Yankee Doodle, Yankee Doodle, riding on a pony,” but the Queen either did not take the hint, or did not understand it, and the General had to be content with the gold pencil case which he received on this occasion. After every visit at Buckingham Palace, a large sum of money was sent to Barnum by command of the Queen.

Since Queen Victoria had received General Tom Thumb three times, it was almost an act of disloyalty for any of her subjects in London to neglect to visit him. At a country fair Barnum heard the English proprietor of a small collection of waxworks, whose articles of trade were beginning to turn yellow with neglect, say to some of his fellow craftsmen: “Tom Thumb has got the name, and you all know the name’s everything. Tom Thumb couldn’t never shine, even in my van, ’long side of a dozen dwarfs I knows, if this Yankee hadn’t bamboozled our Queen--Gawd bless her--by getting him afore her half a dozen times.” “Yes, yes--that’s the ticket,” another agreed, “our Queen patronizes everything _foreign_, and yet she wouldn’t visit my beautiful waxworks to save the crown of _H_ingland.” This recommendation of his publicity skill must have pleased Barnum, but his lowly rivals were not accurate, for, as much as General Tom Thumb owed his success to Barnum, the manager had good raw material with which to work; it was General Tom Thumb’s pert and whimsical charm that won the Queen after Barnum gained the audience. Her subjects were equally enthusiastic, and the receipts from March until July of 1844 for the public exhibitions averaged more than $500 each day. Carriages lined up outside Egyptian Hall as if for a command performance at the opera, and portraits of the General appeared in all the illustrated newspapers. The Duke of Wellington called frequently at Egyptian Hall, and on one occasion the Duke was delighted with the General’s costume and imitation of Napoleon. When Wellington asked the miniature Napoleon on what he was pondering so deeply, Tom Thumb, retaining his sober expression, said that he was thinking of the loss of the Battle of Waterloo. This obvious display of wit delighted the Duke and was published all over England, thereby increasing Barnum’s receipts.

Besides their public exhibitions Barnum and his midget visited the houses of the nobility three or four nights each week and gave private exhibitions at ten guineas each. They often visited two parties in an evening. The Dowager Queen, Adelaide, invited General Tom Thumb to Marlborough House and gave him a watch and chain made for his size; she also gave him moral advice, which he promised to observe carefully when he grew up. The Duke of Devonshire presented him with a gold and turquoise snuff-box.

While Barnum and General Tom Thumb were in London, the Emperor of Russia visited Queen Victoria, and the two popular Americans were present at the grand review of British troops held by the Duke of Wellington in honor of the Emperor Nicholas. They also visited the King of Saxony and Ibrahim Pasha, who were guests in London. Sir Robert and Lady Peel, the Dukes and Duchesses of Buckingham, Bedford, and Devonshire, Count D’Orsay, Daniel O’Connell, Lord Chesterfield, and Mr. Joshua Bates, of Baring Brothers, were especial friends of General Tom Thumb. He and Barnum enjoyed the freedom of all the theaters and public places of entertainment, as well as the hospitality of private residences. But Barnum never neglected the larger rewards from the populace in favor of the perquisites of the nobility and royalty. The General appeared at the Lyceum Theater in a play written for him by Albert Smith, called “Hop o’ My Thumb.” Songs were sung in London music halls in honor of Tom Thumb, music was dedicated to him, and polkas were named after him.

In the management of this English engagement Barnum proved himself a perfect showman, readily adaptable to changed conditions. He believed that when in London he must do as the toffs did, if he was afterwards to attract the crowds who believed in the nobility of their constituted betters. A method that would have earned him an injurious reputation as a snob in this country caused the London aristocracy to storm his mansion and the mass of the people to crowd Egyptian Hall. After a tour of the provinces that was as successful as the London engagement, preparations were made for General Tom Thumb’s appearance in Paris.

II

Barnum had preceded Tom Thumb to Paris, where he met Dion Boucicault, who was living there at the time. Boucicault gave Barnum much valuable advice and spent a day with him looking for a suitable exhibition hall. They finally selected the Salle Musard in the Rue Vivienne as the General’s French headquarters. Barnum issued preliminary paragraphs in the newspapers concerning “Le Général Tom Pouce” and returned to London to get the littlest star. Before his departure from Paris he called upon William Rufus King, American Minister at the Court of France, who assured him that after his success with Queen Victoria there would be no difficulty with Louis Philippe, the affable King, who was distinguished by his green umbrella when he walked unattended through the streets of Paris. Barnum returned to Paris with his entire party and the day after his arrival received a command to appear at the Tuileries on the following Sunday evening. When they arrived at the Palace, Barnum and General Tom Thumb were received by Louis Philippe, the Queen, and the Princess Adelaide, the Duchess d’Orléans and her son, the Count de Paris, Prince de Joinville, the Duke and Duchess de Nemours, the Duchess d’Aumale, and the editor of the _Journal des Débats_, the official journal. After his quaint performances, Louis Philippe presented Tom Thumb with an emerald and diamond brooch.

The King was so genial that Barnum, who later wrote that he felt quite at home in the royal presence, decided to ask a favor. The Longchamps celebration, one of the gala days of fête and display for the new court and society, was to take place within a few days after Barnum’s arrival. He asked Louis Philippe if General Tom Thumb’s carriage might appear in the avenue reserved for the court and the diplomatic corps, for he feared that unless this favor was granted the small carriage with its tiny ponies would be crushed and the General hurt. The King arranged this small matter with one of his officials and told Barnum to call upon the Prefect of Police the next day for a permit. Other members of the court gave General Tom Thumb presents, and after a visit of two hours the entertainers left. The Queen had asked Tom Thumb how he spent his spare time. He answered, “I frequently draw and do it pretty well,” meaning that he drew audiences to his exhibition halls, but Her Majesty was not accustomed to Yankee puns, and several days later a mahogany paint box with a silver plate on which were the General’s initials was sent to him with the compliments of the Queen.

On the day of the Longchamps celebration General Tom Thumb in his little carriage with four ponies, and a coachman and footman powdered and in livery, rode up the Champs Elysées with the ambassadors to the Court of Louis Philippe. The General’s coach had been built in England. It was twenty inches high and eleven inches wide. The body was an intense blue and the wheels were blue and red. On the inside it was richly upholstered. On the doors were the General’s coat of arms, conferred upon him for the occasion by Barnum: Britannia and the Goddess of Liberty, supported by the British lion and the American eagle. The crest was the rising sun and the British and American flags. Underneath was the motto, “Go Ahead!” The same crest was on the body of the coach and on the harness. The coachman’s box was of red velvet, embroidered with a silver star and flowers of red and green. The equipage was drawn by Shetland ponies, and two small boys acted as coachman and footman. These equerries wore sky-blue coats trimmed with silver lace, and aiguillettes tipped with silver. Their breeches were red, with silver buckles and silver garters attached, and they wore cocked hats and wigs. The footman also carried a cane. The cost of this imposing advertisement was between three hundred and four hundred pounds.[5] As this carriage, with the tiny General bowing from right to left and left to right, proceeded in the line of court equipages along the Champs Elysées, thousands cheered enthusiastically for “Le Général Tom Pouce.”

This exclusive advertising swelled the profits at the first public exhibition. The receipts on the first day were 5,500 francs and were limited to that amount because no more people could possibly be accommodated in the large Salle Musard. Performances were given every afternoon and evening, and seats were reserved two months in advance. Barnum’s profits were so heavy that, he tells us, he was compelled to take a cab every night to carry his francs. Tom Pouce became the rage of Paris, and he attained cosmopolitan fame when at the age of six a boulevard café was named after him. He was visited and kissed by the leading actresses of Paris and also by the ladies-in-waiting to the Queen. Louis Philippe asked for two more audiences with General Tom Thumb, and he received a special invitation to the King’s birthday party. On the last visit to the King at St. Cloud, Louis Philippe asked specially to see the General in his impersonation of Napoleon Bonaparte. This costume had been carefully kept in the bottom of a trunk while Barnum was in Paris, but he granted the King’s request, and the newspapers were careful not to mention the sacrilege to Napoleon’s memory.

Every member of the royal family bore a gift for General Tom Thumb, and none of the ladies of the royal household missed an opportunity to kiss his pink cheeks. A quaint history of General Tom Thumb written for young children and published at Philadelphia in 1849 made this comment on the reception at the Court of Louis Philippe: “Other and valuable presents were heaped upon the little traveler by the royal family. How the world changes! Louis Philippe has, since that time, been driven from his throne, and with his wife and children is in England; and it is very likely that the money which the gifts were worth, which were given to the little dwarf, would have been many times within the last year [1848] very acceptable to the dethroned monarch. Tom Thumb is Tom Thumb still, but Louis Philippe is a king no longer.”

In Paris Barnum picked up a bargain, which pleased him so much that he mentioned it in all the editions of his autobiography. The effects of a Russian prince were sold at auction, and Barnum bought among other things a gold tea-set and a silver dining-service. What delighted him most, however, was that the initials of the nobleman were engraved on the plate, and that therefore it was sold for its weight value; and the initials were “P. T.,” which needed only an addition of “B” to make them appropriate for Phineas’s and Charity’s table.

After a long engagement in Paris, Barnum and General Tom Thumb visited with great financial success Rouen, Orléans, Bordeaux, Brest, Toulon, Montpellier, Nîmes, Marseilles, Nantes, and other cities. Barnum had turned his acquisition into something of an actor, for throughout France he appeared in a comedy called “Petit Poucet,” and the revenue authorities recognized the General’s histrionic ability by classifying him officially as subject to only the theatrical tax of eleven per cent. instead of the twenty-five per cent. tax for natural curiosities.

General Tom Thumb visited Spain, where he was received by Queen Isabella, with whom he attended a bull fight. On his return trip to France, many European newspapers of the day report, he was held up by brigands, one of whom mounted the box of the coach and drove off rapidly with his prize. It was rumored, according to the _Illustrated London News_ for September 20, 1845, that “a lady, from excess of fantasy, has eloped with him to the neighborhood of Guilligomach.” The fact that seemed certain to the _Illustrated London News_ was that the General had not been seen or heard of since his departure from the Spanish border. Possibly this was Barnum’s foreign publicity, but he neglects to say so, and if it were an example of his successful cunning, he would have mentioned it in his autobiography.

At Brussels Barnum and Tom Thumb spent the day after their arrival at the palace of King Leopold and the Queen, where they entertained the children of royalty and distinguished guests. After this engagement and several exhibitions at other cities in Belgium, Barnum brought his party back to London, where they appeared again with great success in Egyptian Hall. The triumphant tours of France and Belgium had increased General Tom Thumb’s popularity, and the London receipts were larger than during the first engagement. In October, 1844, Barnum returned to New York in order to renew the lease of the American Museum and to bring his wife and daughters back to London. He left General Tom Thumb under the management of his father, Sherwood Stratton, a shrewd Yankee. Upon Barnum’s return the party toured England, Scotland, and Ireland. At Oxford the students of the University came in large numbers and paid their admission in farthings, forty-eight to the shilling, arguing that the smallest curiosity should be paid for in the smallest coin, to the exasperation of Sherwood Stratton, who besides being the father of General Tom Thumb was also ticket seller at all the exhibitions. Stratton was often pointed out by Barnum to visitors at the exhibitions as the normal father of a subnormal celebrity, which caused the father to become a notoriety himself, for people surrounded him at the box office and asked many questions about the birth and early life of his boy. Upon one occasion a dowager said to Stratton, who was Yankee in habits of speech as well as in character, “Are you really the father of General Tom Thumb?” “Wa’al, I have to support him,” answered the ticket-seller.

At the end of the tour of Great Britain Barnum returned to London again, and General Tom Thumb appeared once more at the Egyptian Hall. This time he impersonated Cupid with wings and quiver, Samson carrying away the gates of Gaza, the Grecian Statues, the Fighting Gladiator, the Slave whetting his knife, Ajax, Discobolus, Cincinnatus, Hercules with the Nemean Lion, Napoleon, and Frederick the Great.

A few days before Barnum brought Tom Thumb back to the Egyptian Hall, Benjamin Robert Haydon, the historical painter, had taken another room in the hall to exhibit his latest painting, “The Banishment of Aristides,” together with his “Nero Playing His Lyre While Rome Is Burning.” Haydon depended upon this exhibition to relieve him from debt. He wrote in his now famous diary, “I fear nothing on earth but my banker, where I have not five shillings on account, and have a bill coming due and want help.” Haydon’s two paintings were part of a series he planned for the decoration of the House of Lords, but Sir Robert Peel, who was one of his patrons, told Haydon he feared the House would not accept the works. Haydon was the personal friend of Keats, who sent him his poems for criticism as he wrote them, and also of Wordsworth, who sent his sonnets, “piping hot from the brain,” as one of the poet’s letters expressed it.

When Haydon exhibited at Egyptian Hall, he was sixty years old, and worried almost to frenzy by the struggles of those years. He trembled in fear of the debtor’s prison, which he had already experienced once. His father had been a printer and bookseller, and Haydon had no means but his art. His independent spirit and lack of patience with ignorance caused him to upbraid for their stupidity those patrons he was lucky enough to get. William Michael Rossetti wrote that he was vain and combative, and _Blackwood’s Magazine_ had nicknamed him “The Cockney Raphael.” Haydon’s grand conception was a series of historical paintings to adorn England’s public buildings. He had already painted “Solomon,” “Jerusalem,” “The Banishment of Aristides with His Wife and Children,” “Nero Playing His Lyre While Rome Is Burning,” and he was at work on “Alfred and the First Jury,” when General Tom Thumb moved into Egyptian Hall. Haydon’s scheme for a series of historical paintings had been taken up with George IV, but that king was always more interested in private affairs than in public works.

Haydon had married a widow with children, and although this marriage added materially to his burdens, his diary is filled with praises of their loveliness. He wrote in the diary: “I sat all day and looked into the fire.... A man who has had so many misfortunes as I have had gets frightened at leaving his family for a day.” On Easter Monday, 1846, he wrote: “O God, bless my receipts this day, for the sake of my creditors, my family, and my art. Amen.” The receipts that day were only one pound, two shillings. Later he wrote: “Tom Thumb had 12,000 people last week. B. Haydon, 133½, the ½ a little girl. Exquisite taste of the English people.” The next entry reads: “They rush by thousands to see Tom Thumb. They push, they fight, they scream, they faint, they cry help and murder! and oh! and ah! They see my bills, my boards, my caravans and don’t read them. Their eyes are open, but their sense is shut. It is an insanity, a _rabies_, a madness, a _furor_, a dream. I would not have believed it of the English people.” Haydon’s exhibition brought in 17 pounds, 13 shillings after Tom Thumb came to Egyptian Hall, and Tom Thumb took in 600 pounds a day. The deadly contrast, coupled with his seemingly illimitable woe, caused Haydon to go home in despair. His diary reads: “Cleared out my exhibition. Next to victory is a skilful retreat, and I marched out before General Tom Thumb, a beaten, but not conquered exhibitor.” But he was also conquered, if not by Tom Thumb, then by circumstances. His wife was going to visit friends in the country, and he embraced her fervently. An hour later his daughter walked into the studio and found her father lying on the floor. There was a deep gash in his throat; a blood-stained razor and a small pistol, with which he had blown out his brains, lay beside his body. Above him was the easel with the unfinished “Alfred and the First Jury.” He had but a few minutes before written in his diary a will in which he appointed friendly administrators of his debts, and the journal of his life closed with the harrowing words, “Stretch me no longer on this rough world.”

Tom Thumb cannot be said to have caused Haydon’s death, he was merely the last straw. A large conclave followed the body to its grave, and among the mourners were Wordsworth and Sir Robert Peel.

III

In February of 1847, after having been abroad with General Tom Thumb for three years, punctuated by two short trips to New York, Barnum returned to this country. He had renewed the lease of the American Museum for ten years at a rental of $10,000 a year, and taxes; he also leased the adjoining buildings and enlarged the Museum and the Lecture Room. The news of Barnum’s triumphs on the continent as well as the receptions of the Connecticut Yankee at the Court of Queen Victoria had been copied by the New York newspapers from the foreign journals, and after Barnum’s return the Museum was more popular than ever. In Europe he had kept it constantly in mind, and he made many purchases for the ever-increasing collection. Models of machinery and duplicates of the dissolving views which were so popular in London, were shipped to the Museum.

[Illustration: BARNUM’S AMERICAN MUSEUM

From “Gleason’s Pictorial Drawing Room Companion”

_Westervelt Collection_]

[Illustration: GENERAL TOM THUMB

An engraving made in England during his first appearance, 1844

_Houdini Collection_]

Barnum also made an offer for Shakespeare’s home, which he knew would never be permitted to leave England, but which he planned to remove in sections to his Museum, if he could get away with it, for he admitted to his own mind no impossibility until everything had been tried in an endeavor. Barnum’s designs became public in London, Englishmen interfered, and the Shakespeare home was purchased by the Shakespearean Association. “Had they slept a few days longer,” Barnum wrote of this project, “I should have made a rare speculation, for I was subsequently assured that the British people, rather than suffer that house to be removed to America, would have bought me off with twenty thousand pounds.”

He made an offer of 500 pounds for a tree on which Lord Byron had carved his name, and which was then growing on the poet’s English estate. Colonel Wildman, who had bought Byron’s estate and cherished it, flew into a military rage of great proportions at the indignity of Barnum’s offer.

In London Barnum also made complete arrangements for the transfer of Mme. Tussaud’s famous Waxworks to New York, but after the papers were drawn up the enterprise was canceled by the English owners. In Paris Barnum purchased Robert Houdin’s automatic writer, which had won the gold medal at the Quinquennial Exposition. Barnum visited Robert Houdin at his home, and was delighted with the mechanical conveniences and contrivances of the magician’s residence. Instead of a butler, a slot for a visiting card greeted Barnum after he rang the bell. Doors opened apparently by their own volition, and luncheon was served when Houdin pressed a button that caused the dining table to rise from the floor. Barnum also purchased in Paris a diorama of Napoleon’s funeral, showing all the processional details from the embarkation of the body at St. Helena to its entombment in the Invalides.

Barnum met at Liverpool by appointment a troupe of Lancashire Bell Ringers, who were then enjoying popularity throughout the United Kingdom. He hired them for a tour of the United States and an engagement at the Museum, on condition that they would consent to a change of name to the “Swiss Bell Ringers” and would also consent to allow their mustaches to grow and to dress in Swiss costumes. When they objected that they spoke only English, Barnum assured them that if they kept their Lancashire dialect unspoiled by purer accents the American people would never know that they were not talking Swiss.

In order to compensate the English people for the loss of some of their curiosities, Barnum sent to England a party of American Indians, who were exhibited successfully throughout Great Britain. He also sent Professor Faber’s automaton speaker, a machine he had obtained while in New York on one of his short trips. When played upon with proper piano keys, this mechanical figure spoke English and German.

During the last two years of their tour abroad Barnum had taken General Tom Thumb, through the agency of his father, into partnership, and the profits of the successful tour were divided equally between them after the first year. A London newspaper on September 18, 1847, reported that Tom Thumb’s secretary had furnished one of the American newspapers with a statement of his receipts in Europe, which were said to be more than £150,000.

A few days after their arrival in New York Barnum put General Tom Thumb on exhibition at the Museum. He advertised in the New York newspapers of February 25, 1847:

GENERAL TOM THUMB, The Smallest man in Miniature in the known world, weighing only FIFTEEN POUNDS, who has been patronized by all the CROWNED HEADS of Europe, and been seen by over 5,000,000 persons, has returned to America, in the packet ship _Cambria_, and will make his GRAND DEBUT at his former headquarters in this city, the American Museum, where the most extensive preparations have been made to receive him.

He will be seen this MORNING FROM 11½ to 1 O’CLOCK. On the platform in one of the main halls of the Museum, in his extraordinary and popular performances, including his CITIZEN’S DRESS, in which he will relate his History, Travels, &c., sing a variety of songs, dance the Polka, Sailor’s Hornpipe, give representations of NAPOLEON, FREDERICK THE GREAT, GRECIAN STATUES, &c., &c. He will also appear in his magnificent COURT DRESS Presented him by Queen Victoria, of England, and worn before all the principal Courts of Europe. After which he will appear in his BEAUTIFUL SCOTCH COSTUME, in which he will dance the HIGHLAND FLING, &c.

THE MAGNIFICENT PRESENTS received from Queen Victoria and the principal Crowned Heads of Europe will be exhibited in the afternoon from 3 to 5 o’clock, and in the evening from 7½ to 9 o’clock.

The Little General will appear in various Costumes and Performances on the Stage.

In the Lecture Room, in connection with other splendid performances, including ETHIOPIAN MINSTRELS OR SERENADERS, the Panoramic Representation of the

WAR IN AFGHANISTAN, GREAT WESTERN, the Yankee Comedian.

MISSES WHEELER AND JULIEN.

LIVING OURANG OUTANGS to be seen at all hours.

TWO MONSTER SNAKES, 20 feet long.

ANATOMICAL VENUS, to be seen at 1s. extra.

MADAME ROCKWELL, Fortune Teller.

It appears that some one had been converting the Moral Lecture Room into a popular medical laboratory during Barnum’s absence abroad, if the Anatomical Venus, to be seen at one shilling extra, is any indication of a change of policy.

The crowds that welcomed General Tom Thumb home were larger than the Museum had ever previously accommodated. His European reputation had increased his popularity, and Barnum exploited it fully. It seems that other showmen exploited it also. W. C. Coup, who many years later became associated with Barnum in the circus, wrote in his book of circus life, _Sawdust and Spangles_, of an enterprising circus crier, who, many years after General Tom Thumb had ceased to exhibit, announced a small boy as General Tom Thumb. He had a coach and ponies for his exhibition, and the barker shouted:

“Ladies and Gentlemen: We have little Tom Thumb inside. More than this, we have the carriage which was presented to him by her Majesty, Queen Victoria, of England. Ladies and gentlemen, Queen Victoria gave this superb outfit to him with the words: ‘Here, Tom Thumb, is the little carriage, together with the horses, together with the harness--here, Thomas, take it. Take these to America; show it to your countrymen. Tell the people of America that it cost three thousand pounds in our money or $15,000 in their money. Take it, Thomas; take it.’”

In April, 1847, Barnum and Tom Thumb’s parents toured the United States with their foreign and domestic celebrity. They visited all the large cities of the East and many New England towns. In Washington they were received at the White House by President Polk and Mrs. Polk. In Philadelphia the receipts for twelve days were $5,594.91, and for the entire tour the receipts averaged $500 a day, the expenses being twenty-five dollars a day for the party. Barnum once said, pointing to General Tom Thumb, “That is my piece of goods; I have sold it hundreds of thousands of times, and have never delivered it.” In November they exhibited in the South and also visited Havana, Cuba, where they found it difficult to get a good meal but received large amounts of money from the excited population for a sight of General Tom Thumb and his autograph. The General’s tiny autograph was always in demand, and he sold it often, but sometimes he gave it away and with it interesting sentiments. He wrote at this time the following letter on his small stationery in his tiny handwriting, to a clergyman who had requested his autograph:

“CONGRESS HALL, ALBANY, July 22d, ’47.

“RESPECTED SIR:

“In accordance with your request, I send you a _little_ note. My travels have thus far been chiefly in England, Scotland, Ireland, France, Belgium, Spain, and a portion of the United States.

“I was born in Bridgeport, Ct., the 11 of January, 1832. I have traveled fifty thousand miles, been before more crowned heads than any other Yankee living, except my friend Mr. Barnum, and have kissed nearly Two Millions of ladies, including the Queens of England, France, Belgium, and Spain.

“I read the Bible every day, and am very fond of reading the New Testament. I love my Saviour and it makes me happy. I adore my Creator and know that He is good to us all. He has given me a small body, but I believe he has not contracted my heart, nor brain, nor _soul_. I shall praise his name evermore.

“Time compels me to make this note _short_ like _myself_.

“I am, my dear sir,

“Truly yours, “CHARLES S. STRATTON, “known as “GENERAL TOM THUMB.[6]

“To Rev. Dr. Sprague, Albany.”

IV

While Barnum was traveling in this country with General Tom Thumb in the summer of 1848, he saw in Cincinnati what was to become one of his best known curiosities and shams. A woolly horse was announced for exhibition in Cincinnati, and Barnum, ever on the alert for Museum material, inspected the freak of nature. He was a small, well-formed animal with no mane and very little hair on his tail, but the body and legs were completely covered with a natural growth of curly, thick hair, similar to sheep’s wool. Barnum saw excellent possibilities in this animal, if he was properly exploited by opportune publicity. He purchased the woolly horse and sent him to Bridgeport, to be kept in strict retirement until the proper occasion for his début should present itself. Barnum knew that a woolly horse exhibited at the Museum would be nothing but another curiosity, and his unfailing instinct for appropriate publicity told him that if The Woolly Horse were to become a phenomenon, he must be tied to a public event.

Not long after Barnum bought The Woolly Horse, Colonel Frémont was lost in the Rocky Mountains. The whole country was interested in his fate, and news of his expedition was telegraphed everywhere every day. It was feared that he and his party had died during the severe winter in the mountains. Finally, after weeks of public anxiety, news of Colonel Frémont’s safety came from the West and was telegraphed throughout the country. The public was relieved, and thankful for a new hero.

Barnum saw his opportunity. The Woolly Horse was led out of the Bridgeport barn, covered with blankets and leggins to conceal his unique features, and shipped to New York, where he remained in an obscure livery stable until Barnum’s publicity was ripe. The next despatches to the New York newspapers from the West announced that Colonel Frémont had captured near the Gila River a most extraordinary animal, who had no mane and no hair on his tail, but whose body was covered with a thick coat of wool. The despatches added that the Colonel had sent the animal to the United States Quartermaster General as a token of his esteem. Two days later this advertisement appeared in the New York newspapers:

“COL. FREMONT’S NONDESCRIPT OR WOOLLY HORSE will be exhibited for a few days at the corner of Broadway and Reade Street, previous to his departure for London. Nature seems to have exerted all her ingenuity in the production of this astounding animal. He is extremely complex--made up of the Elephant, Deer, Horse, Buffalo, Camel, and Sheep. It is the full size of a Horse, has the haunches of a Deer, the tail of the Elephant, a fine curled wool of camel’s hair color, and easily bounds twelve or fifteen feet high. Naturalists and the oldest trappers assured Col. Frémont that it was never known previous to his discovery. It is undoubtedly ‘Nature’s last,’ and the richest specimen received from California. To be seen every day this week. Admittance 25 cents; children half price.”

This was the third time that Barnum had used the same method with different curiosities. He had been successful in this anonymous manner of presentation with The Fejee Mermaid and the Buffalo Hunt of Hoboken, and there was no suspicion of Barnum in this third venture. Pictures of Colonel Frémont and his brave soldiers chasing Barnum’s Woolly Horse through the Rocky Mountains were posted about New York, and the public rushed to see the curiosity, for it was avid of concrete evidence of Colonel Frémont’s expedition, which was thrilling because it had almost been tragic. No one questioned the authenticity of The Woolly Horse; Colonel Frémont had not yet come out of the West, and there was no one else interested enough to deny with authority the animal’s relations with the Colonel.

After New York had more than paid for the expenses of The Woolly Horse, Barnum sent the animal to several other large cities, enjoying equal success. Finally, he appeared in Washington, where Barnum planned, as he expressed it, “to pull the wool over the eyes of the politicians.” He was successful in this endeavor for several days, and then Colonel Benton, who was senator from Missouri, and who was the father-in-law of Colonel Frémont, saw The Woolly Horse, and denied publicly and with emphasis that his son-in-law had ever seen the animal. Colonel Benton instituted a suit against Barnum’s agent for obtaining twenty-five cents from him under false pretenses. At the trial the senator testified that he had received many letters from his son-in-law since Colonel Frémont had come out of the mountains, and that no mention had ever been made of The Woolly Horse; he was sure that Colonel Frémont had never seen the animal. But the court was not so sure, for it was decided that the evidence against Barnum’s agent was not substantial enough, and Colonel Benton’s case was dismissed. The publicity of the trial caused an increase in the receipts, and Barnum kept The Woolly Horse in Washington only long enough to satisfy public curiosity without turning his discovery from a joke into an outrage in the public mind. The horse was sent back to Bridgeport, where he was turned loose in a field adjoining Barnum’s new home, and served as an advertisement for P. T. Barnum and his Museum, because every one who passed Bridgeport in the trains saw The Woolly Horse eating Barnum’s grass.

This deception enraged the newspaper editors, who had been fooled by it, and delighted the public, who enjoy being fooled at a moderate sum so long as they have plenty of company. It was referred to for many years, along with The Fejee Mermaid, by hostile editors, and particularly by James Gordon Bennett, whenever they wanted to write against Barnum. And he himself grew rather ashamed of it, as he did of Joice Heth and The Fejee Mermaid, for it is only in the first edition of his autobiography that he mentions this deception.