Bridgeport, Conn., Feb. 21, 1867.W. H. Barnum, Esq., Salisbury, Conn.Dear Sir: Observing that the democratic party has nominated you for Congress from this district, I desire to make you a proposition.The citizens of this portion of our State will be compelled on the first Monday in April next, to decide whether you or myself shall represent their interests and their principles in the Fortieth Congress of the United States.The theory of our government is, that the will of the people shall be the law of the land. It is important, therefore, that the people shall vote understandingly, and especially at this important crisis in our national existence. In order, that the voters of this district shall fully comprehend the principles by which each of their congressional candidates is guided, I respectfully invite you to meet me in a serious and candid discussion of the important political issues of the day, at various towns in the Fourth Congressional District of Connecticut, on each week day evening, from the fourth day of March until the thirtieth day of the same month, both inclusive.If you will consent to thus meet me in a friendly discussion of those subjects, now so near and dear to every American heart, and, I may add, possessing at this time such momentous interest to all civilized nations in the world, who are suffering from misrule, I pledge myself to conduct my portion of the debate with perfect fairness, and with all due respect for my opponent, and doubt not you will do the same.Never, in my judgment, in our past history as a nation, have interests and questions more important appealed to the people for their wise and careful consideration. It is due to the voters of the Fourth Congressional District that they have an early and full opportunity to examine their candidates in regard to these important problems, and I shall esteem it a great privilege if you will accept this proposition.Please favor me with an early answer, and oblige,Truly yours,P. T. Barnum.
Bridgeport, Conn., Feb. 21, 1867.
W. H. Barnum, Esq., Salisbury, Conn.
Dear Sir: Observing that the democratic party has nominated you for Congress from this district, I desire to make you a proposition.
The citizens of this portion of our State will be compelled on the first Monday in April next, to decide whether you or myself shall represent their interests and their principles in the Fortieth Congress of the United States.
The theory of our government is, that the will of the people shall be the law of the land. It is important, therefore, that the people shall vote understandingly, and especially at this important crisis in our national existence. In order, that the voters of this district shall fully comprehend the principles by which each of their congressional candidates is guided, I respectfully invite you to meet me in a serious and candid discussion of the important political issues of the day, at various towns in the Fourth Congressional District of Connecticut, on each week day evening, from the fourth day of March until the thirtieth day of the same month, both inclusive.
If you will consent to thus meet me in a friendly discussion of those subjects, now so near and dear to every American heart, and, I may add, possessing at this time such momentous interest to all civilized nations in the world, who are suffering from misrule, I pledge myself to conduct my portion of the debate with perfect fairness, and with all due respect for my opponent, and doubt not you will do the same.
Never, in my judgment, in our past history as a nation, have interests and questions more important appealed to the people for their wise and careful consideration. It is due to the voters of the Fourth Congressional District that they have an early and full opportunity to examine their candidates in regard to these important problems, and I shall esteem it a great privilege if you will accept this proposition.
Please favor me with an early answer, and oblige,
Truly yours,
P. T. Barnum.
To this letter Mr. William H. Barnum replied, declining to accept my proposition to go before the people of the district, and discuss the political questions of the day.
During the canvass I received the following letter, which, together with my reply, was published in the BridgeportStandardand in the New YorkTribune:
Litchfield Co., Conn., Feb. 20, 1867.P. T. Barnum.—Dear Sir: Although Fairfield County was entitled to the nomination of the copperhead candidate for Congress from the Fourth District, and under ordinary circumstances it would have been given to William F. Taylor, of Danbury, you are, perhaps, aware that they have changed their tactics and nominated a wealthy namesake of yours, simply for the purpose of using his money against you. A democratic ex-Congressman is said to be preparing a tariff of prices to be paid for votes, and they boast that their candidate will expend $50,000 to secure his election. Already, I am credibly informed, the greenbacksare being freely circulated by his friends. I write to ask what your intentions are in regard to counteracting this effort of the copperhead party. Do you intend to fight fire with fire? The day of election is fast approaching, and we are confident of success, as all our friends are wide awake.Respectfully yours, —— ——
Litchfield Co., Conn., Feb. 20, 1867.
P. T. Barnum.—Dear Sir: Although Fairfield County was entitled to the nomination of the copperhead candidate for Congress from the Fourth District, and under ordinary circumstances it would have been given to William F. Taylor, of Danbury, you are, perhaps, aware that they have changed their tactics and nominated a wealthy namesake of yours, simply for the purpose of using his money against you. A democratic ex-Congressman is said to be preparing a tariff of prices to be paid for votes, and they boast that their candidate will expend $50,000 to secure his election. Already, I am credibly informed, the greenbacksare being freely circulated by his friends. I write to ask what your intentions are in regard to counteracting this effort of the copperhead party. Do you intend to fight fire with fire? The day of election is fast approaching, and we are confident of success, as all our friends are wide awake.
Respectfully yours, —— ——
The New YorkTribune, commenting upon the correspondence, said:
Mr. P. T. Barnum, Union candidate for Congress in the Fourth District of Connecticut, was lately solicited by a friend to spend money in a manner deemed objectionable by Mr. Barnum, and he responded as became a patriot.
Mr. P. T. Barnum, Union candidate for Congress in the Fourth District of Connecticut, was lately solicited by a friend to spend money in a manner deemed objectionable by Mr. Barnum, and he responded as became a patriot.
The following was my reply to the above letter:
Bridgeport, Feb. 23, 1867.——Esq.—Dear Sir: Your kind letter of the 20th inst. has caused me painful emotions. I now wish to say, once for all, that under no conceivable circumstances will I permit a dollar of mine to be used to purchase a vote, or to induce a voter to act contrary to his honest convictions.The idea that the intelligent reading men of New England can be bought like sheep in the shambles, and that the sacred principles which have so far guided them in the terrible struggle between liberty and slavery can now, in this eventful hour of national existence, be set up at auction and knocked down to the highest bidder, seems to me as preposterous as it is shameful and humiliating. But if it is possible that occasionally a degraded voter can thus be induced to “sell his birthright for a mess of pottage,” God grant that I may be a thousand times defeated sooner than permit one grain of gold to be accursed by using it so basely!I will not believe that American citizens can lend themselves to the contemptible meanness of sapping the very life-blood of our noble institutions by encouraging a fatal precedent, which ignores all principle,and would soon prevent any honest man, however distinguished for his intelligence and loyalty, from representing his district in our national councils. None could then succeed except unprincipled vagabonds, who, by the lavish expenditure of money, would debauch and degrade the freemen whose votes they coveted.No, sir! Grateful as I am for the distinguished honor of receiving a unanimous nomination for Congress from the loyal Union party in my district, I have no aspiration for that high position if it is only to be attained by bringing into disgrace the noble privilege of thefree elective franchise. Think for a moment what a deadly weapon is being placed in the hands of tyrants throughout the civilized world, with which to destroy such apostles of liberty as John Bright and Garibaldi, if it can be said with truth that American citizens have become so corrupt and degraded, so lost to a just estimate of the value and true nobility of the ballot, that it is bought and sold for money.My dear sir, any party that can gain a temporary ascendancy by such atrocious means, not only poisons the body politic of a free and impartial government, but is also sure to bring swift destruction upon itself. And so it should be.I am unaccustomed to political life, and know but little of the manner of conducting a campaign like the present. I believe, however, it is customary for the State Central Committee to assess candidates, in order that they shall defray a proper portion of the expenses incurred for speakers and documents toenlightenthe voters upon the political issues of the day. To that extent I am willing and anxious to be taxed; for “lightand knowledge” are always desired by the friends of human rights and of public order.But I trust that all money used for any other purpose, in the pending election will come from the pockets of those who now (as during the rebellion) are doing their utmost to aid traitors, and who, still unrepenting, are vindictively striving to secure at the ballot-box what their Southern allies failed to accomplish on the field of battle. If any of our friends misapprehend my true sentiments upon the subject of bribery, corruption and fraud, I hope you will read them this letter.Truly yours,P. T. BARNUM.P. S.—The following is the law of Connecticut on the bribery of electors:
Bridgeport, Feb. 23, 1867.
——Esq.—Dear Sir: Your kind letter of the 20th inst. has caused me painful emotions. I now wish to say, once for all, that under no conceivable circumstances will I permit a dollar of mine to be used to purchase a vote, or to induce a voter to act contrary to his honest convictions.
The idea that the intelligent reading men of New England can be bought like sheep in the shambles, and that the sacred principles which have so far guided them in the terrible struggle between liberty and slavery can now, in this eventful hour of national existence, be set up at auction and knocked down to the highest bidder, seems to me as preposterous as it is shameful and humiliating. But if it is possible that occasionally a degraded voter can thus be induced to “sell his birthright for a mess of pottage,” God grant that I may be a thousand times defeated sooner than permit one grain of gold to be accursed by using it so basely!
I will not believe that American citizens can lend themselves to the contemptible meanness of sapping the very life-blood of our noble institutions by encouraging a fatal precedent, which ignores all principle,and would soon prevent any honest man, however distinguished for his intelligence and loyalty, from representing his district in our national councils. None could then succeed except unprincipled vagabonds, who, by the lavish expenditure of money, would debauch and degrade the freemen whose votes they coveted.
No, sir! Grateful as I am for the distinguished honor of receiving a unanimous nomination for Congress from the loyal Union party in my district, I have no aspiration for that high position if it is only to be attained by bringing into disgrace the noble privilege of thefree elective franchise. Think for a moment what a deadly weapon is being placed in the hands of tyrants throughout the civilized world, with which to destroy such apostles of liberty as John Bright and Garibaldi, if it can be said with truth that American citizens have become so corrupt and degraded, so lost to a just estimate of the value and true nobility of the ballot, that it is bought and sold for money.
My dear sir, any party that can gain a temporary ascendancy by such atrocious means, not only poisons the body politic of a free and impartial government, but is also sure to bring swift destruction upon itself. And so it should be.
I am unaccustomed to political life, and know but little of the manner of conducting a campaign like the present. I believe, however, it is customary for the State Central Committee to assess candidates, in order that they shall defray a proper portion of the expenses incurred for speakers and documents toenlightenthe voters upon the political issues of the day. To that extent I am willing and anxious to be taxed; for “lightand knowledge” are always desired by the friends of human rights and of public order.
But I trust that all money used for any other purpose, in the pending election will come from the pockets of those who now (as during the rebellion) are doing their utmost to aid traitors, and who, still unrepenting, are vindictively striving to secure at the ballot-box what their Southern allies failed to accomplish on the field of battle. If any of our friends misapprehend my true sentiments upon the subject of bribery, corruption and fraud, I hope you will read them this letter.
Truly yours,
P. T. BARNUM.
P. S.—The following is the law of Connecticut on the bribery of electors:
Section 64.No person shall offer or receive any money, or other thing, by way of gift, fee or reward, for giving, or refusing to give, a vote for electing members of the General Assembly, or any officer chosen at an electors’ meeting, nor promise, procure, or in any way confer, any gratuity, reward or preferment, for any vote given or to be given, in any election; and every person guilty of so doing shall forfeit the sum of $17, one-half to him who shall prosecute to effect, and the other half to the treasury of the town where the offence is committed, and every person who shall be convicted a second time of a like offence shall be disfranchised.
Section 64.No person shall offer or receive any money, or other thing, by way of gift, fee or reward, for giving, or refusing to give, a vote for electing members of the General Assembly, or any officer chosen at an electors’ meeting, nor promise, procure, or in any way confer, any gratuity, reward or preferment, for any vote given or to be given, in any election; and every person guilty of so doing shall forfeit the sum of $17, one-half to him who shall prosecute to effect, and the other half to the treasury of the town where the offence is committed, and every person who shall be convicted a second time of a like offence shall be disfranchised.
That section commends itself to the obedience of every law-abiding voter, and I shall be the last to consent to its violation.
P. T. B.
When Congress met, I was surprised to see by the newspapers that the seat of my opponent was to be contested on account of alleged bribery, fraud and corruption in securing his election. This was the first intimation that I had ever received of such an intention, and I was never, at any time before or afterwards, consulted upon the subject. The movement proved tohave originated with neighbors and townsmen of the successful candidate, who claimed to be able to prove that he had paid large sums of money to purchase votes. They also claimed that they had proof that men were brought from an adjoining State to vote, and that in the office of the successful candidate naturalization papers were forged to enable foreigners to vote upon them. But, I repeat, I took no part nor lot in the matter, but concluded that if I had been defeated by fraud, mine was the real success.
THE AMERICAN MUSEUM LEASE—ITS VALUE—BENNETT OF THE HERALD BUYS IT FOR $200,000—HE PURCHASES THE PROPERTY—OVERESTIMATE OF ITS WORTH—MAX MARETZEK—MISS CLARA LOUISE KELLOGG’S ESTIMATE OF CERTAIN PEOPLE—THE POWER BEHIND THE HERALD THRONE—THE HERALD’S INFLUENCE—BENNETT KICKED AND COWHIDED—HIS LAWYER INSISTS UPON MY TAKING BACK THE MUSEUM LEASE—I DECLINE—BENNETT REFUSES MY ADVERTISEMENTS—INTERVIEW WITH MR. HUDSON—WAR OF THE MANAGERS UPON THE HERALD—BENNETT HUMBLED—LOSS OF THE HERALD’S PRESTIGE—MONEY—DAMAGE TO BENNETT’S ESTABLISHMENT—THE EDITOR SUED—PEACE BETWEEN THE HERALD AND THE MANAGERS.
THE AMERICAN MUSEUM LEASE—ITS VALUE—BENNETT OF THE HERALD BUYS IT FOR $200,000—HE PURCHASES THE PROPERTY—OVERESTIMATE OF ITS WORTH—MAX MARETZEK—MISS CLARA LOUISE KELLOGG’S ESTIMATE OF CERTAIN PEOPLE—THE POWER BEHIND THE HERALD THRONE—THE HERALD’S INFLUENCE—BENNETT KICKED AND COWHIDED—HIS LAWYER INSISTS UPON MY TAKING BACK THE MUSEUM LEASE—I DECLINE—BENNETT REFUSES MY ADVERTISEMENTS—INTERVIEW WITH MR. HUDSON—WAR OF THE MANAGERS UPON THE HERALD—BENNETT HUMBLED—LOSS OF THE HERALD’S PRESTIGE—MONEY—DAMAGE TO BENNETT’S ESTABLISHMENT—THE EDITOR SUED—PEACE BETWEEN THE HERALD AND THE MANAGERS.
WHENthe old American Museum burned down, and while the ruins were still smoking, I had numerous applications for the purchase of the lease of the two lots, fifty-six by one hundred feet, which had still nearly eleven years to run. It will be remembered that in 1847 I came back from England, while my second lease of five years had yet three years more to run, and renewed that lease for twenty-five years from 1851 at an annual rental of $10,000. It was also stipulated that in case the building was destroyed by fire the proprietor of the property should expend twenty-four thousand dollars towards the erection of a new edifice, and at the end of the term of lease he was to pay me the appraised value of the building, not to exceed $100,000. Rents and real estate values had trebled since I took this twenty-five years’ lease, and hence the remaining term was very valuable. I engaged an experienced and competent real estate broker in Pine Street to examine theterms of my lease, and in view of his knowledge of the cost of erecting buildings and the rentals they were commanding in Broadway, I enjoined him to take his time, and make a careful estimate of what the lease was worth to me, and what price I ought to receive if I sold it to another party. At the end of several days, he showed me his figures, which proved that the lease was fully worth $275,000. As I was inclined to have a museum higher up town, I did not wish to engage in erecting two buildings at once, so I concluded to offer my museum lease for sale. Accordingly, I put it into the hands of Mr. Homer Morgan, with directions to offer it for $225,000, which was $50,000 less than the value at which it had been estimated.
The next day I met Mr. James Gordon Bennett, who told me that he desired to buy my lease, and at the same time to purchase the fee of the museum property, for the erection thereon of a publication building for the New YorkHerald. I said I thought it was very fitting theHeraldshould be the successor of the Museum; and Mr. Bennett asked my price.
“Please to go or send immediately to Homer Morgan’s office,” I replied, “and you will learn that Mr. Morgan has the lease for sale at $225,000. This is $50,000 less than its estimated value; but to you I will deduct $25,000 from my already reduced price, so you may have the lease for $200,000.”
Bennett replied that he would look into the affair closely; and the next day his attorney sent for my lease. He kept it several days, and then appointed an hour for me to come to his office. I called according to appointment. Mr. Bennett and his attorney had thoroughly examined the lease. It was the property of my wife.Bennett concluded to accept my offer. My wife assigned the lease to him, and his attorney handed me Mr. Bennett’s check on the Chemical Bank for $200,000. That same day I invested $50,000 in United States bonds; and the remaining $150,000 was similarly invested on the following day. I learned at that time that Bennett had agreed to purchase the fee of the property for $500,000. He had been informed that the property was worth some $350,000 to $400,000, and he did not mind paying $100,000 extra for the purpose of carrying out his plans. But the parties who estimated for him the value of the land knew nothing of the fact that there was a lease upon the property, else of course they would in their estimate have deducted the $200,000 which the lease would cost. When, therefore, Mr. Bennett saw it stated in the newspapers that the sum which he had paid for a piece of land measuring only fifty-six by one hundred feet was more than was ever before paid in any city in the world for a tract of that size, he discovered the serious oversight which he had made; and the owner of the property was immediately informed that Bennett would not take it. But Bennett had already signed a bond to the owner, agreeing to pay $100,000 cash, and to mortgage the premises for the remaining $400,000.
Supposing that by this step he had shaken off the owner of the fee, Bennett was not long in seeing that, as he was not to own the land, he would have no possible use for the lease, for which he had paid the $200,000; and accordingly his next step was to shake me off also, and get back the money he had paid me.
At this time Bennett was ruling the managers of the theatres and other amusements with a rod of iron. Hehad established a large job printing office in connection with theHeraldoffice; and woe to the manager who presumed to have his bills printed elsewhere. Any manager who dared to decline employing Bennett’s job office to print his small bills and posters, at Bennett’s exorbitant prices, was ignored in theHerald; his advertisements were refused, and generally, he and his establishment were black-balled and blackguarded in the columns of theHerald. Of course most of the managers were somewhat sensitive to such attacks, and therefore submitted to his impositions in the job office, his double price for newspaper advertisements, and any other overbearing conditions theHeraldmight choose to dictate. The advertisements of the Academy of Music, then under the direction of Mr. Max Maretzek, had been refused on account of some dissatisfaction in theHeraldoffice in regard to free boxes, and also because the prima donna, Miss Clara Louise Kellogg, had certain ideas of her own with regard to social intercourse with certain people, as Miss Jenny Lind had with regard to the same people, when she was under my management, and to some degree under my advice, and these ideas were not particularly relished by the power behind theHeraldthrone.
For my own part, I thoroughly understood Bennett and his concern, and I never cared one farthing for him or his paper. I had seen for years, especially as Bennett’s enormously overestimated “influence” applied to public amusements, that whatever theHeraldpraised, sickened, drooped, and if theHeraldpersisted in praising it, finally died; while whatever theHeraldattacked prospered, and all the more, the more it was abused. It was utterly impossible for Bennett to injure me, unless he had some more potent weapon than hisHerald.And that this was the general opinion was quite evident from the fact that several years had elapsed since gentlemen were in the almost daily habit of cuffing, kicking and cowhiding Bennett in the streets and other public places for his scurrilous attacks upon them, or upon members of their families. It had come to be seen that what theHeraldsaid, good or bad, was, like the editor himself, literally of “no account.”
My business for many years, as manager of the Museum and other public entertainments, compelled me to court notoriety; and I always found Bennett’s abuse far more remunerative than his praise, even if I could have had the praise at the same price, that is, for nothing. Especially was it profitable to me when I could be the subject of scores of lines of his scolding editorials free of charge, instead of paying him forty cents a line for advertisements, which would not attract a tenth part so much attention. Bennett had tried abusing me, off and on, for twenty years, on one occasion refusing my advertisement altogether for the space of about a year; but I always managed to be the gainer by his course. Now, however, when new difficulties threatened, all the leading managers in New York were members of the “Managers’ Association,” and as we all submitted to the arbitrary and extortionate demands of theHerald, Bennett thought he had but to crack his whip, in order to keep any and all of us within the traces. The great Ogre of theHeraldsupposed he could at all times frighten the little managerial boys into any holes which might be left open for them to hide in. Accordingly, one day Bennett’s attorney wrote me a letter, saying that he would like to have me call on him at his office the following morning. Not dreaming of the object I called asdesired, and after a few pleasant commonplace remarks about the weather, and other trifles, the attorney said:
“Mr. Barnum, I have sent for you to say that Mr. Bennett has concluded not to purchase the museum lots, and therefore that you had better take back the lease, and return the $200,000 paid for it.”
“Are you in earnest?” I asked with surprise.
“Certainly, quite so,” he answered.
“Really,” I said, smiling, “I am sorry I can’t accommodate Mr. Bennett; I have not got the little sum about me; in fact, I have spent the money.”
“It will be better for you to take back the lease,” said the attorney seriously.
“Nonsense,” I replied, “I shall do nothing of the sort, I don’t make child’s bargains. The lease was cheap enough, but I have other business to attend to, and shall have nothing to do with it.”
The attorney said very little in reply; but I could see, by the almost benignant sorrow expressed upon his countenance, that he evidently pitied me for the temerity that would doubtless lead me into the jaws of the insatiable monster of theHerald. The next morning I observed that the advertisement of my entertainments with my Museum Company at Winter Garden was left out of theHeraldcolumns. I went directly to the editorial rooms of theHerald; and learning that Bennett was not in, I said to Mr. Hudson, then managing editor:
“My advertisement is left out of theHerald; is there a screw loose?”
“I believe there is,” was the reply.
“What is the matter?” I asked.
“You must ask the Emperor,” said Mr. Hudson, meaning of course Bennett.
“When will the ‘Emperor’ be in?” I inquired; “next Monday,” was the answer.
“Well, I shall not see him,” I replied; “but I wish to have this thing settled at once. Mr. Hudson, I now tender you the money for the insertion of my Museum advertisement on the same terms as are paid by other places of amusement, will you publish it?”
“I will not,” Mr. Hudson peremptorily replied.
“That is all,” I said. Mr. Hudson then smilingly and blandly remarked, “I have formally answered your formal demand, because I suppose you require it; but you know, Mr. Barnum, I can only obey orders.” I assured him that I understood the matter perfectly, and attached no blame to him in the premises. I then proceeded to notify the Secretary of the “Managers’ Association” to call the managers together at twelve o’clock the following day; and there was a full meeting at the appointed time. I stated the facts in the case in theHeraldaffair, and simply remarked, that if we did not make common cause against any newspaper publisher who excluded an advertisement from his columns simply to gratify a private pique, it was evident that either and all of us were liable to imposition at any time.
One of the managers immediately made a motion that the entire association should stop their advertising and bill printing at theHeraldoffice, and have no further connection with that establishment. Mr. Lester Wallack advised that this motion should not be adopted until a committee had waited upon Bennett, and had reported the result of the interview to the Association. Accordingly, Messrs. Wallack, Wheatley and Stuart were delegated to go down to theHeraldoffice to call on Mr. Bennett.
The moment Bennett saw them, he evidently suspected the object of their mission, for he at once commenced to speak to Mr. Wallack in a patronizing manner; told him how long he had known, and how much he respected his late father, who was “a true English gentleman of the old school,” with much more in the same strain. Mr. Wallack replied to Bennett that the three managers were appointed a committee to wait upon him to ascertain if he insisted upon excluding from his columns the Museum advertisements,—not on account of any objection to the contents of the advertisements, or to the Museum itself, but simply because he had a private business disagreement with the proprietor?—intimating that such a proceeding, for such a reason, and no other, might lead to a rupture of business relations with other managers. In reply, Mr. Bennett had something to say about the fox that had suffered tailwise from a trap, and thereupon advised all other foxes to cut their tails off; and he pointed the fable by setting forth the impolicy of drawing down upon the Association the vengeance of theHerald. The committee, however, coolly insisted upon a direct answer to their question.
Bennett then answered: “I will not publish Barnum’s advertisement; I do my business as I please, and in my own way.”
“So do we,” replied one of the managers, and the committee withdrew.
The next day the Managers’ Association met, heard the report, and unanimously resolved to withdraw their advertisements from theHerald, and their patronage from theHeraldjob establishment, and it was done. Nevertheless, theHeraldfor several days continued to print gratuitously the advertisements of Wallack’s Theatre and Niblo’s Garden, and inordinately puffed these establishments, evidently in order to ease the fall, and to convey the idea that some of the theatres patronized theHerald, and perhaps hoping by praising these managers to draw them back again, and so to nullify the agreement of the Association in regard to theHerald. Thereupon, the managers headed their advertisements in all the other New York papers with the line, “This Establishment does not advertise in the New YorkHerald,” and for many months this announcement was kept at the top of every theatrical advertisement and on the posters and playbills.
TheHeraldthen began to abuse and vilify the theatrical and opera managers, their artists and their performances, and by way of contrast profusely praised Tony Pastor’s Bowery show, and Sundry entertainments of a similar character, thereby speedily bringing some of these side-shows to grief and shutting up their shops. Meanwhile, the first-class theatres prospered amazingly under the abuse of Bennett. Their receipts were never larger, and their houses, never more thronged. The public took sides in the matter with the managers and against theHerald, and thousands of people went to the theatres merely to show their willingness to support the managers and to spite “Old Bennett.” The editor was fairly caught in his own trap; other journals began to estimate the loss theHeraldsustained by the action of the managers, and it was generally believed that this loss in advertising and job printing was not less than from $75,000 to $100,000 a year. TheHerald’scirculation also suffered terribly, since hundreds of people, at the hotels and elsewhere, who were accustomed to buy the paper solely for the sake of seeing what amusementswere announced for the evening, now bought other papers. This was the hardest blow of all, and it fully accounted for the abuse which theHeralddaily poured out upon the theatres.
But the more Bennett raved the more the people laughed, and the more determined did they seem to patronize the managers. Many people came to the Museum, who said they came expressly to show us that the public were with us and against theHerald. The other managers stated their experience to be the same in this respect. In fact, it was a subject of general remark, that, without exception, the associated managers never had done such a thriving business as during the two years in which they gave theHeraldthe cold shoulder.
Bennett evidently felt ashamed of the whole transaction; he would never publish the facts in his columns, though he once stated in an editorial that it had been reported that he had been cheated in purchasing the Broadway property; that the case had gone to court, and the public would soon know all the particulars. Some persons supposed by this that Bennett had sued me; but this was far from being the case. The owner of the lots sued Bennett, to compel him to take the title and pay for the property as per agreement; and that was all the “law” there was about it. He held James Gordon Bennett’s bond, that he would pay him half a million of dollars for the land, as follows: $100,000 cash, and a bond and mortgage upon the premises for the remaining $400,000. The day before the suit was to come to trial, Bennett came forward, took the deed, and paid $100,000 cash and gave a bond and mortgage of the entire premises for $400,000. That lien still exists against theHeraldproperty.
Had I really taken back the lease as Bennett desired, he would have been in a worse scrape than ever; for having been compelled to take the property, he would have been obliged, as my landlord, to go on and assist in building a Museum for me according to the terms of my lease, and a Museum I should certainly have built on Bennett’s property, even if I had owned a dozen Museums up town. As it was, Bennett was badly beaten on every side, and especially by the managers, who forever established the fact that theHerald’sabuse was profitable, and its patronage fatal to any enterprise; and who taught Mr. Bennett personally the lesson of his own insignificance, as he had not learned it since the days when gentlemen used to kick and cowhide him up and down the whole length of Nassau Street. In the autumn of 1868, the associated managers came to the conclusion that the punishment of Bennett for two years was sufficient, and they consented to restore their advertisements to theHerald. I was then associated with the Van Amburgh Company in my new Museum, and we concluded that the cost of advertising in theHeraldwas more than it was worth, and so we did not enter into the new arrangement made by the Managers’ Association.
MY TOUR AT THE WEST—THE CURIOSITY EXHIBITOR HIMSELF A CURIOSITY—BUYING A FARM IN WISCONSIN—HELPING THOSE WHO HELP THEMSELVES—A RIDE ON A LOCOMOTIVE—PUNCTUALITY IN MY ENGAGEMENTS—TRICKS TO SECURE SEATS IN THE LADIES’ CAR—I SUDDENLY BECAME FATHER TO A YOUNG MARRIED COUPLE—MY IDENTITY DENIED—PITY AND CHARITY—REVEREND DOCTOR CHAPIN PULLS THE BELL—TEMPERANCE—HOW I BECAME A TEETOTALER—MODERATE DRINKING AND ITS DANGERS—DOCTOR CHAPIN’S LECTURE IN BRIDGEPORT—MY OWN EFFORTS IN THE TEMPERANCE CAUSE—LECTURING THROUGHOUT THE COUNTRY—NEWSPAPER ARTICLES—THE STORY OF VINELAND, IN NEW JERSEY.
MY TOUR AT THE WEST—THE CURIOSITY EXHIBITOR HIMSELF A CURIOSITY—BUYING A FARM IN WISCONSIN—HELPING THOSE WHO HELP THEMSELVES—A RIDE ON A LOCOMOTIVE—PUNCTUALITY IN MY ENGAGEMENTS—TRICKS TO SECURE SEATS IN THE LADIES’ CAR—I SUDDENLY BECAME FATHER TO A YOUNG MARRIED COUPLE—MY IDENTITY DENIED—PITY AND CHARITY—REVEREND DOCTOR CHAPIN PULLS THE BELL—TEMPERANCE—HOW I BECAME A TEETOTALER—MODERATE DRINKING AND ITS DANGERS—DOCTOR CHAPIN’S LECTURE IN BRIDGEPORT—MY OWN EFFORTS IN THE TEMPERANCE CAUSE—LECTURING THROUGHOUT THE COUNTRY—NEWSPAPER ARTICLES—THE STORY OF VINELAND, IN NEW JERSEY.
DURINGthe summer of 1866, Mr. Edwin L. Brown, Corresponding Secretary of the “Associated Western Literary Societies,” opened a correspondence with me relative to delivering, in the ensuing season, my lecture on “Success in Life,” before some sixty lyceums, Young Men’s Christian Associations, and Literary Societies belonging to the union which Mr. Brown represented. The scheme embraced an extended tour through Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Wisconsin, Missouri and Iowa, and I was to receive one hundred dollars for every repetition of my lecture, with all my travelling expenses on the route. Agreeing to these terms, I commenced the engagement at the appointed time, and, averaging five lectures a week, I finished the prescribed round just before New Year’s. Before beginning this engagement, however, I gave the lecture for other associations at Wheeling, Virginia, Cincinnati, Ohio, and Louisville, Kentucky. I also delivered the lecture in Chicago, forProfessor Eastman, who at that time had one of his Business Colleges in that city. He engaged the celebrated Crosby Opera House for the occasion, and I think, with, perhaps, two exceptions, I never spoke before so large and intelligent an audience as was there assembled. It was estimated that from five to six thousand ladies and gentlemen were gathered in that capacious building; and nearly as many more went away unable to obtain admission. I was glad to observe by the action of the audience, and by the journals of the following day, that my efforts on that occasion were satisfactory. Indeed, though it is necessarily egotistical, I may truly say that with this lecture I always succeeded in pleasing my hearers. I may add, that I have invariably, as a rule, devoted to charitable purposes every penny I ever received for lecturing, except while I was under the great Jerome Clock cloud in England, when I needed all I could earn.
My western tour was delightful; indeed it was almost an ovation. I found, in fact, that when I had strayed so far from home, the curiosity exhibitor himself became quite a curiosity. On several occasions, in Iowa, I was introduced to ladies and gentlemen who had driven thirty miles in carriages to hear me. I insisted, however, that it was more to see than to hear; and I asked them if that was not really the case. In several instances they answered in the affirmative. In fact, one quaint old lady said: “Why, to tell you the truth, Mr. Barnum, we have read so much about you, and your Museum and your queer carryings-on, that we were not quite sure but you had horns and cloven feet, and so we came to satisfy our curiosity; but, la, me! I don’t see but what you look a good deal like other folks, after all.”
While at the West, I visited my sister, Mrs. Minerva Drew, and her family, at Bristol, Wisconsin, where they reside on a farm which I presented to her about twenty years ago. Her children having grown up and married, all except her son, Fairchild B. Drew, who had just attained his majority, his father (Ezekiel Drew) wished to retain his services on the farm. Fairchild, however, felt that the farm was not quite large enough for his aspirations. I found also that he coveted a neighboring farm, which, with its stock, was for sale for less than five thousand dollars. I bought it for him, on condition that he should continue the care of the old farm, and that the two should be worked together. I trust that the arrangement will prove beneficial to all concerned; for there is great pleasure in helping others who try to help themselves; without such effort on their part, all good offices in their favor are thrown away,—it is simply attempting to make a sieve hold water.
On my tour, in attempting to make the connection from Cleveland, Ohio, to Fort Wayne, Indiana, via Toledo, I arrived at the latter city at one o’clock,P.M., which was about two hours too late to catch the train in time for the hour announced for my lecture that evening. I went to Mr. Andrews, the superintendent of the Toledo, Wabash and Western Railway, and told him I wanted to hire a locomotive and car to run to Fort Wayne, as I must be there at eight o’clock at night.
“It is an impossibility,” said Mr. Andrews; “the distance is ninety-four miles, and no train leaves here till morning. The road is much occupied by freight trains, and we never run extra trains in this part of the country, unless the necessity is imperative.”
I suppose I looked astonished, as well as chagrined. I knew that if I missed lecturing in Fort Wayne that evening, I could not appoint another time for that purpose, for every night was engaged during the next two months. I also felt that a large number of persons in Fort Wayne would be disappointed, and I grew desperate. Drawing my wallet from my pocket, I said:
“I will give two hundred dollars, and even more, if you say so, to be put into Fort Wayne before eight o’clock to-night; and, really, I hope you will accommodate me.”
The superintendent looked me thoroughly over in half a minute, and I fancied he had come to the conclusion that I was a burglar, a counterfeiter, or something worse, fleeing from justice. My surmise was confirmed, when he slowly remarked:
“Your business must be very pressing, sir.”
“It is indeed,” I replied; “I am Barnum, the museum man, and am engaged to speak in Fort Wayne to-night.”
He evidently did not catch the whole of my response, for he immediately said:
“Oh, it is a show, eh? Where is old Barnum himself?”
“I am Barnum,” I replied, “and it is a lecture which I am advertised to give to-night; and I would not disappoint the people for anything.”
“Is this P. T. Barnum?” said the superintendent, starting to his feet.
“I am sorry to say it is,” I replied.
“Well, Mr. Barnum,” said he, earnestly, “if you can stand it to ride to Fort Wayne in the caboose of a freight train, your well-established reputation for punctualityin keeping your engagements shall not suffer on account of the Toledo, Wabash and Western Railroad.”
“Caboose!” said I, with a laugh, “I would ride to Fort Wayne astride of the engine, or boxed up and stowed away in a freight car, if necessary, in order to meet my engagement.”
A freight train was on the point of starting for Fort Wayne; all the cars were at once ordered to be switched off, except two, which the superintendent said were necessary to balance the train; the freight trains on the road were telegraphed to clear the track, and the polite superintendent pointing to the caboose, invited me to step in. I drew out my pocket-book to pay, but he smilingly shook his head, and said: “You have a through ticket from Cleveland to Fort Wayne; hand it to the freight agent on your arrival, and all will be right.” I was much moved by this unexpected mark of kindness, and expressing myself to that effect, I stepped into the caboose, and we started.
The excited state of mind which I had suffered while under the impression that the audience in Fort Wayne must be disappointed now changed, and I felt as happy as a king. In fact, I enjoyed a new sensation of imperial superiority, in that I was “monarch of all I surveyed,” emperor of my own train, switching all other trains from the main track, and making conductors all along the line wonder what grand mogul had thus taken complete possession and control of the road. Indeed, as we sped past each train, which stood quietly on a side track waiting for us to pass, I could not help smiling at the glances of excited curiosity which were thrown into our car by the agent and brakemen of the train which had been so peremptorily ordered to clear
THE GREAT UNKNOWN.THE GREAT UNKNOWN.
the track; and always stepping at the caboose door, I raised my hat, receiving in return an almost reverent salute, which the occupants of the waiting train thought due, no doubt, to the distinguished person for whom they were ordered by special telegram to make way.
I now began to reflect that the Fort Wayne lecture committee, upon discovering that I did not arrive by the regular passenger train, would not expect me at all, and that probably they might issue small bills announcing my failure to arrive. I therefore prepared the following telegram which I despatched to them on our arrival at Napoleon, the first station at which we stopped:
Lecture Committee, Fort Wayne:—Rest perfectly tranquil. I am to be delivered at Fort Wayne by contract by half-past seven o’clock—special train.
Lecture Committee, Fort Wayne:—Rest perfectly tranquil. I am to be delivered at Fort Wayne by contract by half-past seven o’clock—special train.
At the same station I received a telegram from Mr. Andrews, the superintendent, asking me how I liked the caboose. I replied:
The springs of the caboose are softer than down; I am as happy as a clam at high water; I am being carried towards Fort Wayne in a style never surpassed by Cæsar’s triumphal march into Rome. Hurrah for the Toledo and Wabash Railroad!
The springs of the caboose are softer than down; I am as happy as a clam at high water; I am being carried towards Fort Wayne in a style never surpassed by Cæsar’s triumphal march into Rome. Hurrah for the Toledo and Wabash Railroad!
At the invitation of the engineer, I took a ride of twenty miles upon the locomotive. It fairly made my head swim. I could not reconcile my mind to the idea that there was no danger; and intimating to the engineer that it would be a relief to get where I could not see ahead, I was permitted to crawl back again to the caboose.
I reached Fort Wayne in ample time for the lecture; and as the committee had discreetly kept to themselves the fact of my non-arrival by the regular train, probably not a dozen persons were aware of the trouble I had taken to fulfil my engagement, till in the course of my lecture, under the head of “perseverance,” I recounted my day’s adventures, as an illustration of exercising thatquality when real necessity demanded. The Fort Wayne papers of the next day published accounts of “Barnum on a Locomotive,” and “A Journey in a Caboose”; and as I always had an eye to advertising, these articles were sent marked to newspapers in towns and cities where I was to lecture, and of course were copied,—thus producing the desired effects, first, of informing the public that the “showman” was coming, and next, assuring the lecture committee that Barnum would be punctually on hand as advertised, unless prevented by “circumstances over which he had no control.”
The managers of railroads running west from Chicago pretty rigidly enforce a rule excluding from certain reserved cars all gentlemen travelling without ladies. As I do not smoke, I avoided the smoking cars; and as the ladies’ car was sometimes more select and always more comfortable than the other cars, I tried various expedients to smuggle myself in. If I saw a lady about to enter the car alone, I followed closely, hoping thus to elude the vigilance of the brakeman, who generally acted as door-keeper. But the car Cerberus is pretty well up to all such dodges, and I did not always succeed. On one occasion, seeing a young couple, evidently just married, and starting on a bridal tour, about to enter the car, I followed closely, but was stopped by the door-keeper, who called out:
“How many gentlemen are with this lady.”
I have always noticed that young newly-married people are very fond of saying “my husband” and “my wife;” they are new terms which sound pleasantly to the ears of those who utter them; so in answer to the peremptory inquiry of the door-keeper, the bridegroom promptly responded:
“I am this lady’s husband.”
“And I guess you can see by the resemblance between the lady and myself,” said I to Cerberus, “that I am her father.”
The astounded husband and the blushing bride were too much “taken aback” to deny their newly-discovered parent, but the brakeman said, as he permitted the young couple to pass into the car:
“We can’t pass all creation with one lady.”
“I hope you will not deprive me of the company of my child during the little time we can remain together,” I said with a demure countenance. The brakeman evidently sympathized with the fond “parient” whose feelings were sufficiently lacerated at losing his daughter through her finding a husband, and I was permitted to pass. I immediately apologized to the young bride and her husband, and told them who I was, and my reasons for the assumed paternity, and they enjoyed the joke so heartily that they called me “father” during our entire journey together. Indeed, the husband privately and slyly hinted to me that the first boy should be christened “P. T.” My friend the Rev. Dr. Chapin, by the by an inveterate punster, is never tired of ringing the changes on the names in my family; he says that my wife and I are the most sympathetic couple he ever saw, since she is “Charity” and I am “Pity” (P. T.) On one occasion, at my house in New York, he called my attention to the monogram, P. T. B., on the door and said, “I did it,” “Did what,” I asked: “Why that,” replied the doctor, “P. T. B.,—Pull The Bell, of course,” thus literally ringing a new change on my initials.
At another time during my western lecturing trip, I was following closely in the wake of a lady who was entering the favorite car, when the brakeman exclaimed;“You can’t go in there, sir!”
“I rather guess I can go in with a lady,” said I, pointing to the one who had just entered.
“Not with that lady, old fellow; for I happen to know her, and that is more than you do; we are up to all these travellers’ tricks out here; it’s no go.”
I saw indeed that it was “no go,” and that I must try something else; “Look here, my dear fellow,” said I; “I am travelling every day on the railroads, on a lecturing tour throughout the West, and I really hope you will permit me to take a seat in the ladies’ car. I am Barnum, the Museum man from New York.”
Looking sharply at me for an instant, the altogether too wide-awake brakeman exclaimed: “Not by a d—n sight you ain’t! I know Barnum!”
I could not help laughing; and pulling several old letters from my pocket, and showing him the directions on the envelopes, I replied:
“Well, you may know him, but the ‘old fellow’ has changed in his appearance, perhaps. You see by these letters that I am the ‘crittur.’ ”
The brakeman looked astonished, but finally said: “Well, that is a fact sure enough. I know you when I come to look again, but really I did not believe you at first. You see we have all sorts of tricks played on us, and we learn to doubt everybody. You are very welcome to go in, Mr. Barnum, and I am glad to see you,” and as this conversation was heard throughout the car, “Barnum, the showman,” was the subject of general observation and remark.
I fulfilled my entire engagement, which covered the lecturing season, and returned to New York greatly pleased with my Western tour. Public lecturing wasby no means a new experience with me; for, apart from my labors in that direction in England, and occasional addresses before literary and agricultural associations at home, I had been prominently in the field for many years as a lecturer on temperance. My attention was turned to this subject in the following manner:
In the fall of 1847, while exhibiting General Tom Thumb at Saratoga Springs, where the New York State Fair was then being held, I saw so much intoxication among men of wealth and intellect, filling the highest positions in society, that I began to ask myself the question, What guarantee is there thatImay not become a drunkard? and I forthwith pledged myself at that time never again to partake of any kind of spirituous liquors as a beverage. True, I continued to partake of wine, for I had been instructed, in my European tour, that this was one of the innocent and charming indispensables of life. I however regarded myself as a good temperance man, and soon began to persuade my friends to refrain from the intoxicating cup. Seeing need of reform in Bridgeport, I invited my friend, the Reverend Doctor E. H. Chapin, to visit us, for the purpose of giving a public temperance lecture. I had never heard him on that subject, but I knew that on whatever topic he spoke, he was as logical as he was eloquent.
He lectured in the Baptist Church in Bridgeport. His subject was presented in three divisions: The liquor-seller, the moderate drinker, and the indifferent man. It happened, therefore, that the second, if not the third clause of the subject, had a special bearing upon me and my position. The eloquent gentleman overwhelmingly proved that the so-called respectableliquor-seller, in his splendid saloon or hotel bar, and who sold only to “gentlemen,” inflicted much greater injury upon the community than a dozen common groggeries—which he abundantly illustrated. He then took up the “moderate drinker,” and urged that he was the great stumbling-block to the temperance reform. He it was, and not the drunkard in the ditch, that the young man looked at as an example when he took his first glass. That when the drunkard was asked to sign the pledge, he would reply, “Why should I do so? What harm can there be in drinking, when such men as respectable Mr. A, and moral Mr. B drink wine under their own roof?” He urged that the higher a man stood in the community, the greater was his influence either for good or for evil. He said to the moderate drinker: “Sir, you either do or you do not consider it a privation and a sacrifice to give up drinking. Which is it? If you say that you can drink or let it alone, that you can quit it forever without considering it a self-denial, then I appeal to you as a man, to do it for the sake of your suffering fellow-beings.” He further argued that if it was a self-denial to give up wine-drinking, then certainly the man should stop, for he was in danger of becoming a drunkard.
What Doctor Chapin said produced a deep impression upon my mind, and after a night of anxious thought, I rose in the morning, took my champagne bottles, knocked off their heads, and poured their contents upon the ground. I then called upon Doctor Chapin, asked him for the teetotal pledge, and signed it. He was greatly surprised in discovering that I was not already a teetotaler. He supposed such was the case, from the fact that I had invited him to lecture, and helittle thought, at the time of his delivering it, that his argument to the moderate drinker was at all applicable to me. I felt that I had now a duty to perform,—to save others, as I had been saved, and on the very morning when I signed the pledge, I obtained over twenty signatures in Bridgeport. I talked temperance to all whom I met, and very soon commenced lecturing upon the subject in the adjacent towns and villages. I spent the entire winter and spring of 1851-2 in lecturing through my native State, always travelling at my own expense, and I was glad to know that I aroused many hundreds, perhaps thousands, to the importance of the temperance reform. I also lectured frequently in the cities of New York and Philadelphia, as well as in other towns in the neighboring States.
While in Boston with Jenny Lind, I was earnestly solicited to deliver two temperance lectures in the Tremont Temple, where she gave her concerts. I did so; and though an admission fee was charged for the benefit of a benevolent society, the building on each occasion was crowded. In the course of my tour with Jenny Lind, I was frequently solicited to lecture on temperance on evenings when she did not sing. I always complied when it was in my power. In this way I lectured in Baltimore, Washington, Charleston, New Orleans, Cincinnati, St. Louis, and other cities, also in the ladies’ saloon of the steamer Lexington, on Sunday morning. In August, 1853, I lectured in Cleveland, Ohio, and several other towns, and afterwards in Chicago, Illinois, and in Kenosha, Wisconsin. An election was to be held in Wisconsin in October, and the friends of prohibition in that State solicited my services for the ensuing month, and I could not refuse them. I thereforehastened home to transact some business which required my presence for a few days, and then returned, and lectured on my way in Toledo, Norwalk, Ohio, and Chicago, Illinois. I made the tour of the State of Wisconsin, delivering two lectures per day for four consecutive weeks, to crowded and attentive audiences.
My lecture in New Orleans, when I was in that city, was in the great Lyceum Hall, in St. Charles Street, and I lectured by the invitation of Mayor Crossman and several other influential gentlemen. The immense hall contained more than three thousand auditors, including the most respectable portion of the New Orleans public. I was in capital humor, and had warmed myself into a pleasant state of excitement, feeling that the audience was with me. While in the midst of an argument illustrating the poisonous and destructive nature of alcohol to the animal economy, some opponent called out, “How does it affect us, externally or internally?”
“E-ternally,” I replied.
I have scarcely ever heard more tremendous merriment than that which followed this reply, and the applause was so prolonged that it was some minutes before I could proceed.
On the first evening when I lectured in Cleveland, Ohio, (it was in the Baptist Church,) I commenced in this wise: “If there are any ladies or gentlemen present who have never suffered in consequence of the use of intoxicating drinks as a beverage, either directly, or in the person of a dear relative or friend, I will thank them to rise.” A man with a tolerably glowing countenance arose. “Had you never a friend who was intemperate?” I asked.
“Never!” was the positive reply.
A giggle ran through the opposition portion of the audience. “Really, my friends,” I said, “I feel constrained to make a proposition which I did not anticipate. I am, as you are all aware, a showman, and I am always on the lookout for curiosities. This gentleman is a stranger to me, but if he will satisfy me to-morrow morning that he is a man of credibility, and that no friend of his was ever intemperate, I will be glad to engage him for ten weeks at $200 per week, to exhibit him in my American Museum in New York, as the greatest curiosity in this country.”
A laugh that was a laugh followed this announcement.
“They may laugh, but it is a fact,” persisted my opponent with a look of dogged tenacity.
“The gentleman still insists that it is a fact,” I replied. “I would like, therefore, to make one simple qualification to my offer, I made it on the supposition that, at some period of his life, he had friends. Now if he never had any friends, I withdraw my offer; otherwise, I will stick to it.”
This, and the shout of laughter that ensued, was too much for the gentleman, and he sat down. I noticed throughout my speech that he paid strict attention, and frequently indulged in a hearty laugh. At the close of the lecture he approached me, and extending his hand, which I readily accepted, he said, “I was particularly green in rising to-night. Having once stood up, I was determined not to be put down, but your last remark fixed me!” He then complimented me very highly on the reasonableness of my arguments, and declared that ever afterwards he would be found on the side of temperance.
Among the most gratifying incidents of my life have been several of a similar nature to the following: After a temperance speech in Philadelphia, a man about thirty years of age came forward, signed the teetotal pledge, and then, giving me his hand, he said, “Mr. Barnum, you have this night saved me from ruin. For the last two years I have been in the habit of tippling, and it has kept me continually under the harrow. This gentleman (pointing to a person at his side) is my partner in business, and I know he is glad I have signed the pledge to-night.”
“Yes, indeed I am, George, and it is the best thing you ever did,” replied his partner, “if you’ll only stick to it.”
“That will I do till the day of my death; and won’t my dear little wife Mary cry for joy to-night, when I tell her what I have done!” he exclaimed in great exultation. At that moment he was a happy man, but he could not have been more so than I was.
Sir William Don—who came to this country and acted in several theatres, afterwards going to Australia, and dying, I believe, soon after his return to England—once heard me lecture, and immediately afterwards came forward and signed the pledge. He kept it for a short period only, although when he signed, he said that strong drink was the bane of his life. It is the one bane of too many brilliant men, who but for this one misfortune might attain almost every desirable success in life.
I may add, that I have lectured in Montreal, Canada, and many towns and cities in the United States, at my own expense. One of the greatest consolations I now enjoy is that of believing I have carried happiness tothe bosom of many a family. In the course of my life I have written much for newspapers, on various subjects, and always with earnestness, but in none of these have I felt so deep an interest as in that of the temperance reform. Were it not for this fact, I should be reluctant to mention, that besides numerous articles for the daily and weekly press, I wrote a little tract on “The Liquor Business,” which expresses my practical view of the use and traffic in intoxicating drinks. In every one of my temperance lectures since the beginning of the year 1869, I have regularly read the following report, made by Mr. T. T. Cortis, Overseer of the Poor in Vineland, New Jersey: